• Sorrowful Day,
    Rains Away,
    Finaly Sitting,
    Comfy In A Chair,
    I Feel The Wind Blow Through My Hair,
    I Wait For Another Breeze,
    To Come On By And Greet Me,
    But Nothing Is Felt Or Even Heard,
    But The Faint And Distant Chirping Of A Bird.


    The Day Drags On,
    So I Start To Hum A Song,
    A Scream Of Terror Is Heard From The Mind Itself,
    A Shreak That Could Have Only Come From Hell,
    Am I Hearing Things,
    I Awake In Frightening Place Of Bright White,
    My Vision Is Light,
    Injected With A Sharp Needle,
    While I Sleep Feeling Feeble.


    Alas I Awake,
    To Smiling Faces,
    I Realise It Is All Over,
    I Remain For A Day Or Two,
    And Was Sent Home To The Lovely Place Called Home.