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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:27:05 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 40054
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Free?
[time] => 2004-03-24 13:22:40
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I’m sitting here with a knife to my wrist, want it to take the pain, the love I’ve missed want the knife to cut, want my skin to bleed It’s like a symbol of death, a drug I need My thoughts drift as I make up this rhyme, the thought is free, even my last time. They drift to the times I was let down in my life it seems they are all bound in the edge of the knife. I think of the people I loved, the people who cared think of the thoughts I thought we shared But things are different when the truth comes out it’s hard to see the positive side, give the benefit of doubt Someone once told me that life is hard told me you can’t play it like a card But when it all boils down it’s like a game everyone hunts for, seeks for the fame. I feel like I started behind all other players with no chance to finish, not even with prayers. I could have finished, if others I could trust but they all let me down, carry on I must. When people of your own blood let you down, you know it’s time to just let yourself drown. People I loved and cared for, betrayed me that’s what it feels like, at last I’ll be free . I’ve got nothing to live for, nothing to love I want to fly away, want to fly like a dove. I push down on the knife, my skin turns red my body is free, the grief, it has fled. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 237 [topic] => 36 [informant] => gothicangel [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )
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