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Array
(
[sid] => 6574
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => a little bit of lead
[time] => 2002-11-12 14:00:00
[hometext] => um, this is true story, sort of. a friend has talked to me many times about doing something along these lines, so i wrote this to remind him what he wanted to do, and what would happen if he did...comments are welcome!
[bodytext] => WANTED: Alive or Dead,
is the way that sign could be read, his face appeared, beneath this warning, along with the date of that horrific morning, his name as well, was printed in red, just because of a little bit of lead. a little bit of lead, that changed my life, a little bit of lead, used to show his strife, a little bit of lead, shaped for death, a little bit of lead, that hit her head. that little boy was very mad, at life, at school, at everyone, so on that morning, he borrowed a gun, and ran to school, to have some fun. he shot it once, twice, 3 times, then dropped it down, and ran away. he ran from the chaos, enveloping him, he ran from the horror, of seeing her fall, he ran from the fear, that her life was gone, he ran from the terrror, of what would happen to him. he ran away, hard and fast, to try and find a place of rest, but there is no place he can go, to escape that morning. that little boy was so messed up, his life was a living hell, but who was there for him to tell? no one to listen, or give advice, no one would take time, to show him a good life, and now his home is a first-class hotel, which is also called the inside of a jail cell. there he will stay for the rest of his days, because there is no way, to reshape those little pieces of lead. [comments] => 8 [counter] => 373 [topic] => 39 [informant] => nightrider [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 36 [ratings] => 8 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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