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.