Array ( [sid] => 21355 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => Doctor [time] => 2003-08-02 00:35:00 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Doctor

I would die without you,
A pillar for me to climb,
You make me perspire,
Lucky for me you’re always for hire,

Plastic complexities I can’t understand,
But the thought of your remedies eat my will
And I can’t wait to fall down,
To the blood, the spit, and the sullen juice,
A devil’s soup I’ll feast on with my devil’s spoon

A six-inch doctor,
You imprint prescriptions in my head,
And I’ll be alive, forgetting the land I fled,
Proud, ignoring the youth I shed,
When I drag you away to my crimson streets,
And you prick me with your glossy head…

I would cry, kill without you,
If you were alive I would make you my wife,
Cannot loose you, doctor
You’re the one who gives the one that takes,
You gave me this life…
damned life that brakes,

I hate you doctor,
I’ll tear you to little pieces and hide them
It is not like before…
No, and I will last this time
I will not be your whore,
I am not dependant
Not dependant…
Dependant…

Oh, how you make me perspire, Why?
Is it the soup?
Is it the fire?
Not important.
I will find out soon,
Because no matter how many times I have killed you
The beauty of it is, you are always for hire…
Even if YOU are the fire
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 253 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Daniel_jenkis23 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Doctor


Doctor
Date: Saturday, 2nd August 2003 @ 12:35:00 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Daniel_jenkis23
Doctor

I would die without you,
A pillar for me to climb,
You make me perspire,
Lucky for me you’re always for hire,

Plastic complexities I can’t understand,
But the thought of your remedies eat my will
And I can’t wait to fall down,
To the blood, the spit, and the sullen juice,
A devil’s soup I’ll feast on with my devil’s spoon

A six-inch doctor,
You imprint prescriptions in my head,
And I’ll be alive, forgetting the land I fled,
Proud, ignoring the youth I shed,
When I drag you away to my crimson streets,
And you prick me with your glossy head…

I would cry, kill without you,
If you were alive I would make you my wife,
Cannot loose you, doctor
You’re the one who gives the one that takes,
You gave me this life…
damned life that brakes,

I hate you doctor,
I’ll tear you to little pieces and hide them
It is not like before…
No, and I will last this time
I will not be your whore,
I am not dependant
Not dependant…
Dependant…

Oh, how you make me perspire, Why?
Is it the soup?
Is it the fire?
Not important.
I will find out soon,
Because no matter how many times I have killed you
The beauty of it is, you are always for hire…
Even if YOU are the fire


This poem is Copyright © Daniel_jenkis23


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