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Array
(
[sid] => 125603
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Murder
[time] => 2006-09-11 09:09:16
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The horrific screams filled the cold night, The kind of screeches that cuts through the marrow, Only the echo and crimson blood splatter left, As testimony to the merciless murder, The trees stand lofty and motionless, Unable to move after what just transpired, The wind itself can not lift its mighty hand to move, And the animals have fled long ago, Nothing but blood now, Smears of staining blood on the trees, A deep pool of hot blood silently growing wider, Covering over the once peaceful earth, Blood streaming from my hands, Drop, Drop, Drop, To the earth I remember what this place looked like before tonight, The trees gently swaying in the soft breeze, With cheerful birds and playful squirrels all around, And I took these hands, my hands, I twisted them around and held them there, Than when movement had been stilled, I took this knife and began to cut, Than slash and stab, From the head to the arms, The stomach to the legs, I sliced, not smoothly, but with tremendous force, Pulling out what was inside, And savoring each moment, Yes I cut, Piece, Piece, Piece, After pieces, Yes I killed, I slaughtered, I mutilated Until there was nothing left, Looking down at the lake of blood flowing from my hands, I screamed so loud I burst my own ears, And so thus is the death of something named Love. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 191 [topic] => 13 [informant] => alison [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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