Unaddressed.
Where do people go to when they die?
Somewhere down below or in the sky?
"I can't be sure," said Grandad, "But it seems,
They simply set up home inside our dreams."
Unaddressed Letters litter my head. Further, they litter my room. In notebooks, in pockets, in artpads and scribbleblocks. Tiny notes of "I miss you" and "Leave me alone" lead me along a merry path of insanity.
I'm fairly sure that people don't believe in insanity anymore. Fifty years ago a random crying fit would have had me institutionalised. Moodswings would have had a labotomy recommended. And now? Now you need to crawling the walls and foaming at the mouth to get the attention of anyone with a professional interest in curing you. Of course, by the time you're foaming at the mouth, the only cure is sedation - which is less a cure and more something to stop you annoying the other inmates.
Somewhere down below or in the sky?
"I can't be sure," said Grandad, "But it seems,
They simply set up home inside our dreams."
Unaddressed Letters litter my head. Further, they litter my room. In notebooks, in pockets, in artpads and scribbleblocks. Tiny notes of "I miss you" and "Leave me alone" lead me along a merry path of insanity.
I'm fairly sure that people don't believe in insanity anymore. Fifty years ago a random crying fit would have had me institutionalised. Moodswings would have had a labotomy recommended. And now? Now you need to crawling the walls and foaming at the mouth to get the attention of anyone with a professional interest in curing you. Of course, by the time you're foaming at the mouth, the only cure is sedation - which is less a cure and more something to stop you annoying the other inmates.