Array ( [sid] => 82458 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Untitled [time] => 2005-02-01 09:57:15 [hometext] => please give comments [bodytext] => untitled
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I don't talk much but
My head is full of thought
My eyes full of sight
My heart full of pain
The only way to relieve this pain is my pencil pistol
I load my pistol with bullets my words
Then blow all ya'll away with my words of wisdom
I climb the mountain I swim the sea
With my pencil I can be all that i can be
I use my pencil to get away from the pain
It's just me, my pencil, my pads and my thoughts
I use my pencil to trap memories like pictures
It's a disease I can't stop
Ain't no cure
So get used to my pencil
Because I won't stop




[comments] => 2 [counter] => 169 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Paul_Wall [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Untitled


Untitled
Date: Tuesday, 1st February 2005 @ 09:57:15 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Paul_Wall
untitled
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I don't talk much but
My head is full of thought
My eyes full of sight
My heart full of pain
The only way to relieve this pain is my pencil pistol
I load my pistol with bullets my words
Then blow all ya'll away with my words of wisdom
I climb the mountain I swim the sea
With my pencil I can be all that i can be
I use my pencil to get away from the pain
It's just me, my pencil, my pads and my thoughts
I use my pencil to trap memories like pictures
It's a disease I can't stop
Ain't no cure
So get used to my pencil
Because I won't stop






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