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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:20:57 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 62385
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Golden Feast
[time] => 2004-09-03 07:52:19
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Starving, Trapped, Ridiculed, Alone. The cell smells like decomposition, Everything around me is dead. The darkness spreads, Envelops me like a thick cloak. I get fed once a day, Just some rice and bread. I so thin I can see my organs, As they struggle to provide me with life. I dream of food, I table laden with a feast. Turkey, pudding, warm bread and wine, I can taste the food in the dry mouth of mine. I quench my thirst from a golden cup, Set down my cutlery and weep. The food tastes rotten, The bread too sweet. This mouth of mine has turned to ash. Everything’s a dream, The food isn’t real. It’s taken away. I’m back alone again. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 32 [informant] => tabby [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 2 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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