A short chin

Held a long lost sin

Lying buried in the blood of kin

All the troubles deep within

Why the voice lacks tin

The heart is a leaky bin

Lungs deflate and sink in

The nerves broken and thin

While touch burns the skin

Every noise is a deafening din

All you can do is Cheshire grin

As the doctor gives you a spin

Sticking you with needle and pin

Or bury your worry down a bottle of gin

When it is the silence you are cravin’

The darkness you are lackin’

And space is what you’re needin’