The People in My Head

I think this really happened.

The poem that I write now was once just a thought,
but somebody found it who thought he was caught.
That person was me when I was lost in my mind.
When I woke from a dream I had left me behind.

I live on the outside and found my life hell.
I lived on the inside and found pain there as well.
I was trapped in the middle - somewhere in-between.
The ones who could help me just couldn't be seen.

What do you do when you're stuck in your head?
It could happen again if I lay down in bed.
A mind in a mind - it just might never end.
My home is still here on a road called Oak Bend.

It was hard to believe, but the world was in, too.
Their were people around and there weren't just a few.
I brought the earth with me, but I forgot why.
Then when I remembered I started to cry.

The place where I'm at now was already here.
Some people were waiting, but now with good cheer.
One night in a chair, I had come in to see.
These imaginary people were only real to me.

I came in to help them, but for got I was blind.
I still cannot see them, but I think they are kind.
I can't touch, taste or a smell them and I can't hear.
Now, I must pretend that they're really right here.

My dictionary says realize is to make something real.
Here it means understanding things that you can't feel.
My imagined people's feelings were not all their own.
They felt my deep sorrow when I cried alone