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Array
(
[sid] => 14875
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => personal assistant to doctor hell
[time] => 2003-03-25 10:05:00
[hometext] => just a fun little poem i decided to make.
[bodytext] => i am a personal assistant for doctor hell.
he's a surgent and he can never fail. every morning he wakes at six, it only takes him a little time to fix. doctor hell is evil and mean, yet he's grand and supreme. living in side a mansion he seeks, into the night, he creeps. as the moon sits in the dark night, the clouds creeping into the light, cackling and screams, pain and torture is what he brings. i am a personal assistant for doctor hell. i was created blonde and pale. sick of deprivation, sick of being a creation. i help him with his things, i help him cut bloody strings, i help him no matter what it seems, i am his personal assistant that screams. in the night i stare at the stars, i wish to be free and without these scars... i am a personal assistant to doctor hell, i help him out until my body does swell. he slices, he dices, i watch--i stare hoping, i have no fear. singing to be free, to float away and see, the bright side of day, to be happy and play. alone and forever, scared and moreever, sad, and crying trapped and prying. but i am a personal assistant of doctor hell, and here i shall remain, slave, to dwell. scrawled on the floor i cry in this cell, because i am a personal assistant, to doctor hell. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 526 [topic] => 13 [informant] => frozensuicide [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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