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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:01:03 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 38333
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Truth Hurts
[time] => 2004-03-12 03:31:35
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => stagnant memories fester in the corners of my mind. The build up doth cause corruption for time breaks down immunities. I am left bleeding thoughts to a coffin that once held Sanity, (my close friend that was smote in a cerebral battle) and clinging to a faceless God who hears my every muttering? These roses that wither away are the perfect metaphor to life. On this dying day, praise comes so cheap, but true personality is pushed aside for a moment. What do you do when the truth hurts? It's like fighting a raging fire that strangles away all oxygen. A soul is screaming to me, pleading for understanding. If death is not the final adventure, please write a new proverb on my heart. If it were so, my cheeks could feel the sun once again. Until that day, I will exist incessantly with nothing to debate me but for my mind. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 294 [topic] => 39 [informant] => outdoorsman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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