PTSD.
Created | Updated Jan 11, 2010
For years I kept, my thoughts at bay
Thinking there was, no other way
I used to shy away, and brood
But never really understood
Why a vision, taste or smell
Could send you back, to a living hell
Waking up sweating, and all confused
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and used
Living nightmares that torture your mind
Evoking memories, of many kinds
Feeling anxious, running scared
Hours of therapy, with nothing shared
From back in time the memories flood
Surrounded by death, and the smell of blood
No one to talk to, as none of them care
Left to struggle with, your own despair
All you wanted was a helping hand
From someone who could really, understand
Someone who’s been there, and can explain
Why PTSD is such a pain.
Smudger.12/9
