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Array
(
[sid] => 79900
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Frank
[time] => 2005-01-14 18:02:59
[hometext] => The story of Frank
[bodytext] => Once there was a time for laughing When he was young before he started cracking Now his days are full of darkness Sleeping away his saddness There is nothing that he dreams of anymore There never was anything he could be used for All his hopes were dashed out in the sand When he watched his wife and kid killed by his friends hand The horror of that day plays in his head And he takes a gun and wishes he were dead His reason for life taken away He sits alone and wishes he couldn't stay His silent mourning disturbed by a phone ringing loud Something that he has thought of ripping from the wall Yet he gets up and talks silently Then hangs up and leaves his house quietly In the dark no one sees him leave Living a life enshrouded by misery It starts to rain and then it starts to pour His thoughts drift to what he is here for His walking pace quickens with every step Until he gets to his destination soaking wet He stands in the rain then knocks on the door A man answers it and knocks him to the floor The man says "Frank you do not look the same You needed that to get whatever it is off your brain" Frank gets up and stares him in the eyes His friend that he did greatly despise In his mind all his friends were the same People that waited to betray A tear runs down his cheek before he has time to clear his head And in his mind he sees his family screaming as they bled Turning around back into the rain He says to the man "I will never be the same" He slowly saunters home Where he can again be alone Clouded in his misery Where he can see his family No matter how much pain it brings It is the only thing that keeps his sanity From falling off it's dangling string That he knows is the only thing he believes Laying down on his dirty bed In his dirty house where his life has led He tries to sleep but his mind keeps him up He finally decides he has had enough Finding the gun that he had set a side He picks it up for one last try Sitting down in his broken chair That for many years has screamed repair Rocking back and forth he hears it creak No matter how silently Nothing matters anymore He has nothing to live for He takes the gun and puts it in his mouth Quietly his sweat pours out His finger testing the trigger now Slowly pulling his mind drifts into a cloud That takes him to his family He holds them tight and finds a sense of peace And then he is gone He is gone [comments] => 2 [counter] => 195 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Poet_of_anger [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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