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.