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Array
(
[sid] => 26904
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Thanksgiving
[time] => 2003-11-11 23:11:11
[hometext] => A little something I whipped up on Thanksgiving
[bodytext] => Dark and dreary the night is As I stare at the moon and a single cloud My last meal sits on the cold floor I want to run but I'm not allowed I'm too nervous to eat now As my death awaits me soon I was sentenced to die The day I was born It wasnt my fault to be this way I know I die tomorrow at noon Why I'm being executed? I hate to say I was being mistreated everyday I don't deserve it I know I am far from perfect What makes them any better? Nothing last I checked I am to be beheaded What a miserable fate I want to object But it is now too late I am living in hell But they could care less I will soon bid farewell So I can feed those pests Too bad I'm a turkey Who can't do any living If I was human I wouldn't dread Thanksgiving [comments] => 2 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Death_Fire530 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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