Living In Hell

Where does the spoken word go to;
when all conversation has died?
What happens to the thoughts that shaped them;
what happens to those feelings inside?
How does the blackness of anger;
displace a pure canvass of white?
Where did those feelings of love go;
what turned a bright day into night? Too busy to notice the cracks which; like lightening; a tree simply fell; two people - too busy pretending; they're in love whist both living in hell!

A Man In a White Coat

A little voice in my head keeps telling me I'm not normal,
"you're not normal!"
To agree with the voice would make me some kind of nutter!
Anyway; who wants to be normal?
Who wants to be in 'that club?'
And, who couldn't do with a few minutes a week in front of a shrink anyway!
You could always talk to the voice in your head,
but that wouldn't help -
anyway they'd call you a nutter,
the voices in your head I mean.
Now; talking to a man in a white coat,
I mean, the man is wearing a white,
not you wearing a white coat and talking...
that makes you a bit more normal!
Its funny that - isn't it!