ramblings and things

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The Man In The White Coat

The man in the white coat
Comes to talk with me
Clipboard and pen resting
On  his one bent knee.
The crease on his trousers
Dropping razor edged keen:
A rough day at the office probably
The worst thing he's ever seen.

He doesn't speak my language
With his long, technical words,
I might as well be listening
To the tweeting of song birds.
 His Iphone alarm beeps
To tell him our time is gone.
He picks up his clipboard
And very quickly moves on.

He didn't even think to ask
About the clamour in my mind,
Didn't understand why I
Constantly looked behind.
He's never walked the streets
Of Basra, alert and at the ready,
Felt the building strain of
Appearing calm and steady.

Never had the loss of a Mate
one minute, standing by your side,
The next, thanks to a sniper
Fallen down and died.
The man in the white coat
With his schedule to keep
Looks a little embarrassed
When I break down and weep.

How can he think he'll help me;
He's never seen what I've seen,
Never walked the walk
Never been where I've been.
No way the man in the white coat
Can help me to get well.
He may know the theory but
In real life he's never been to Hell.




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The Man In The White Coat