Array ( [sid] => 11751 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => Digging Deeper [time] => 2003-02-01 11:00:00 [hometext] => * I'd say something, but I hate wasting everyones precious time...* [bodytext] => The pain is digging deeper
And I find I'm getting weaker
Closing my eyes to block out the pain
I find its hard to keep sane

My whole body is throbbing
Endlessly racked by my silent sobbing
My body has been torn to shreds
My stomach warped by countless meds

For some sustenance I'm seeking
My bones and muscles are creaking
Like some worn out old man
I'm the receiving end in kick-the-can

I'm worn out, longing to hang from a rope
Then I no longer have to cope
I wish there was a restart button
Instead of being chopped apart, like mutton

I've got a viral infection
It escaped early detection
Looks like I'm about to die
And I will not cry

Depression puts me in a foul mood
Making me think thoughts evil and crude
I'm sitting here ready to pack everything in
Could someone please show me the nearest garbage bin?


[comments] => 3 [counter] => 142 [topic] => 13 [informant] => bobotheclown [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Digging Deeper


Digging Deeper
Date: Saturday, 1st February 2003 @ 11:00:00 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: bobotheclown
The pain is digging deeper
And I find I'm getting weaker
Closing my eyes to block out the pain
I find its hard to keep sane

My whole body is throbbing
Endlessly racked by my silent sobbing
My body has been torn to shreds
My stomach warped by countless meds

For some sustenance I'm seeking
My bones and muscles are creaking
Like some worn out old man
I'm the receiving end in kick-the-can

I'm worn out, longing to hang from a rope
Then I no longer have to cope
I wish there was a restart button
Instead of being chopped apart, like mutton

I've got a viral infection
It escaped early detection
Looks like I'm about to die
And I will not cry

Depression puts me in a foul mood
Making me think thoughts evil and crude
I'm sitting here ready to pack everything in
Could someone please show me the nearest garbage bin?




This poem is Copyright © bobotheclown


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