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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:04:03 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 111902
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Wino
[time] => 2005-12-21 14:45:27
[hometext] => About a person who doesn't hear the voices of help from his friends. Please comment.
[bodytext] => Lots of little people, stand outside my window. Lots of little people, live inside my mind. Some little people come and go by the morning, the other little people remain before my closed eyes. So many little people, tell me what to do and say. So many little people, will not ***** go away. Most little people just step on my toes, the other little people dance on my brain. The people outside my window tell me I'm just a wino, the voices inside my head tell me I'm doing just fine. Who do I believe when the echo of the voices, drowns out the words of the people who were never there. Lots of little people will cry at my funeral, the other little people will talk to me no more. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 499 [topic] => 66 [informant] => steven_fenton1982 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => drugabuse )
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