Array ( [sid] => 28400 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Too Much [time] => 2003-12-01 19:18:37 [hometext] => *written on November 29* [bodytext] => Inside,
These thoughts, they burn,
Burn through the memories.
Dirtpile king,
Sick and demented...
I cherish you.
Oh, but how,
How much I hate you.
I don't want to live like this,
Anymore.
But there is nothing,
That I can do.
No one can help me,
They don't understand,
Understand how I feel.
If you want,
Want me to feel better,
There is but ONE thing,
You can do.
And, oh!
What happiness it would bring me.
And you.
And the rest of you freaks I trust.
Don't mind the stains...














Shoot that ***** bullet to my brain! [comments] => 2 [counter] => 321 [topic] => 6 [informant] => all_for_loving_you [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Too Much


Too Much
Date: Monday, 1st December 2003 @ 07:18:37 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: all_for_loving_you
Inside,
These thoughts, they burn,
Burn through the memories.
Dirtpile king,
Sick and demented...
I cherish you.
Oh, but how,
How much I hate you.
I don't want to live like this,
Anymore.
But there is nothing,
That I can do.
No one can help me,
They don't understand,
Understand how I feel.
If you want,
Want me to feel better,
There is but ONE thing,
You can do.
And, oh!
What happiness it would bring me.
And you.
And the rest of you freaks I trust.
Don't mind the stains...














Shoot that ***** bullet to my brain!

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