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Array
(
[sid] => 120498
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Drinking Man's Prayer
[time] => 2006-05-21 23:16:07
[hometext] => One more thing, God....
[bodytext] => The Drinking Man's Prayer Dear Lord, Well, here I sit on the couch, with nothing but me around. I feel like planting myself, six feet under the ground. My wife and kids have up and left, and now it's only me. I expected to come home to bed, but I was blind to see. My wife left me a note, and it ripped my heart to thirds. The silence is now eerie, the worst silence I ever heard. In her note was written, the torments of my drunken rage. She remembered my hateful words, apparent page after page. I would come home in drunken stupors, and hit, punch, and yell. My kids would cry, and I would laugh, and bid them all to hell. They'd beg me to stop drinking, and I would storm off to the bar. I did not know I had pushed their love, out of reach by far. I do not feel I need forgiveness, for I think I cannot be saved. I created my lonesome bed, now I should lay in what I made. But my pillows will not be as warm, and the morning will not break. I wish I could turn back time now that I know what is at stake. The pain now washes over me, of hearts I took for granted. Now I will never have them again, not even if I demanded. I would give it all up for them, but now I need to hit the drinks. It helps me keep my sanity, with all these thoughts to think. Lord, I know they won't be back, so the bottle will keep me going. I only ask one thing of you, please keep the whiskey flowing. Amen [comments] => 6 [counter] => 776 [topic] => 66 [informant] => Jazz [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => drugabuse )
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