Private Hell

	Closer than close - you see yourself -
	A mirrored image - of what you wanted to be.
	As each day goes by - a little more -
	You can't remember - what it was you wanted anyway.
	The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space -
	Your ageing face - the face that once was so beautiful,
	Is still there but unrecognizable -
	Private hell.
	The man who you once loved - is bald and fat -
	And seldom in - working late as usual.
	Your interest has waned - you feel the strain -
	The bed springs snap - on the occasions he lies upon you -
	Close your eyes and think of nothing but -
	Private hell.
	Think of emma - wonder what she's doing -
	Her husband terry - and your grandchildren.
	Think of edward - who's still at college -
	You send him letters - which he doesn't acknowledge.
	'cause he don't care,
	They don't care.
	'cause they're all going through their own - private hell.
	The morning slips away - in a valium haze,
	And catalogues - and numerous cups of coffee.
	In the afternoon - the weekly food,
	Is put in bags - as you float off down the high street
	The shop windows reflect - play a nameless host,
	To a closet ghost - a picture of your fantasy -
	A victim of your misery - and private hell
	Alone at 6 o'clock - you drop a cup -
	You see it smash - inside you crack -
	You can't go on - but you sweep it up -
	Safe at last inside your private hell.
	Sanity at last inside your private hell.