silent years

Shed no tears for me
For I feel no pain
I've past that point
They say I'm insane
Can't tell you my name

Mom and dad, well they pray to cope
While the people in white say there's a still hope
That one day I may return from the past
Resume life on from the point it was cast
With heart, with emotion, with a conscience clear

But silent years creep by
Ignored without notice
Sliding through rigid fingers
Falling through the cracks
Till tomorrow returns back from the past

Written: September 1992
Part One of the Therapy Trilogy

Copyright Nicholas Treadwell 2001