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Array
(
[sid] => 115610
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Uncover
[time] => 2006-03-01 00:59:17
[hometext] => discovery through discourse was lost
[bodytext] => Uncover Like Locke’s missing pages, I rhyme off its back for the ages, Like unlocking magic, I can’t stop, I cant quit, Mystery is sweet yet tragic, As I stand here perplexed, I find myself on a quest, What can I write to peacefully unite, My body feels speared by an iron spike, In this eerie interlude we call life, Where nothings usually wrong, But nothings usually right, Its like I lost my soul, a long time ago, And I'm just now heading home, I’m in the fog, I’m out of the zone, I beg don’t let me be another statistic getting thrown, Into a black hole, Where there is no return, Stigmatized by a mental illness nobody can concretely defend nor cure, I make a stand with my only armor being love and trust, Sometimes it feels like the armor leaves me vulnerable, Trying to, it only covers half my heart for the other side is dark, For it was ripped by a lady now it flows down my arm, But still I hold my own, My Louisville still shatters bone, Just to bring home the point, That nobody can hold me to their form, I paint my own picture, so leave me alone, As I must break through, This inner interlude, and illuminate some of God’s clues. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 202 [topic] => 8 [informant] => Bsteel [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 6 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AmericanTragedy )
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