I open my eyes reluctantly,

all that I see is shrouded in grey.

I stare out my window unwillingly,

Oh God! I don't want to live through this day.

I feel like leaves discarded by trees,

I've turned to various shades of brown.

My mind in a turmoil like boiling seas,

Oh God! That I could only drown.

The malicious wind whips up the leaves,

They scatter around in panic and dread.

My mind from it's archives all bad things retrieves,

Oh God! That I could only be dead.

The leaves are running from God knows what,

From something chasing them, creating fear.

They scatter and run with dread in their gut,

Oh God! Won't You just let me disappear.

The leaves will end up as compost or burned,

Their fear will be quick, a few days at most.

Yet why do You appear not even concerned?

God! Help me to the finishing post.

Allison D Bell 26/05/02

A wall of water as the sea inside my head

Spits out my eyes, salty, wet upon my cheeks.

A ball of cottonwool stuffed inside my chest

Chokes me as I gasp for life-giving breath.

Air I do not really want in waking hours

Air wasted on a walking talking corpse.

Dead inside, eyes seeing, but not seeing

Dead inside, ears hearing but not hearing.

All I need is sleep, a picture of death to come

Unconscious, drifting off to where there is no future.

Where past is lost in the arms of Morpheus

Where those intent on harm are gone on waking.

I do not wish to talk. Why must I share

With those who cannot comprehend my pain?

Notes, notes, more notes, that's all they take

To be archived, once I've left, on dusty shelves.

Where student doctors ply their trade, pretending care

When all they want is to complete internships.

So they can split their days in fifteen minute parts

Each part helping to pay their study loans.

And soon they will be in private practice

Writing scripts, it's easier than finding the cause

Or sending patients off to see specialists

Who give kickbacks for each patient referred.

And when the patient dies or drifts into a coma

And families pay advocates to litigate.

The fellow doctors help by closing rank

And dusty archived files will disappear.

And I, the sibling of the patient dead and buried

Am in this place where all my moves are watched.

And notes, more notes are taken, pages scribbled

Notes compared to the writings of Adler and Freud.

Until they have convinced me of my madness

This pit I'm in, so deep so dark so menacing.

Just leave me be and let me sleep away my fears

'Cause sleep for me is just the safest place.

Allison D Bell 04/03/01

He was only a child, straight out of school,

When the army took him away.

They called him a "Roofie" the bloody fools,

When they took him for two year's stay.

At sixteen the boy was too young to vote,

But to fight for his country was right.

They gave him a gun and an army coat,

And backed the boy with the army's might.

They gave this young boy a license to kill,

To kill and to shoot and to maim.

They taught him the army's merciless skills,

He was right in front when the enemy came.

the enemy's bullet had found it's mark,

The young teenager was dead.

The boy's world would now forever be dark,

As the boy's blood turned the brown soil red.

What right have we to send a child,

A child too young to vote?

May God be mercy, meek and mild,

When he puts on his judgement cloak,

Allison D Bell 03/10/1984