It isn't that I underestimate your love for me
it's that I'm used to a different kind of love
where pain isn't normal
it's wrong
where sleep was more important
than making sure you can breathe
with ease
where scars were embarrassing
not sign of strength
where chasing dreams was unrealistic
not encouraged
where every thing I tried to do
was always the wrong thing to do
that is
until I met you

I'm going to be a hermit
And hide my life from view
Get my act together
Maybe start anew

Good morning will be the sunrise
Sunset will be goodnight
Maybe I'll work it out
Hope I'll be alright

The birds will sing their song to me
My heart may fill again
Skies fill with their dark clouds
It begins to rain

The rain will hide the tears I cry
And bathe my weary soul
This heart could be once more

**Broken...mended...whole.

The man from Pakistan.
Not much of my language did he speak.
He couldn't understand my proper English.
So how could we my sanity seek.
Yes he was my shrink.
My misfortune for several years.
So we never made much progress.
Dealing with my silly fears.
I wished that he would help me.
So I tried to coerce him as  best as I could.
All of this choosing my words,
did me absolutely no good.
I said I was felling spacey from the pills he
had given me.
He said you think you are an alien,
that is plain to see.
So he threatened me with
institutionalization or hospital.
The big house to be sure.
Luckily,  I convinced him, right here as
I lay on his couch, with him, we could find a cure.
As he picked up on his English.
My progress became quite quick.
The silly man thought it his miracle that
I was not so sick.
He got a better offer, from a clinic far away.
He left without a good-bye.
I wonder if he appreciated the English lessons
I wonder to this day.