ptsd

I couldn’t see the snakes. When they came at night, Puffing and hissing around my bed. I slept on the ground Without a light Other than the stars. Glowing softly over my head. Beauty above. Death below. To sleep was an act of faith. Closing your eyes When well you know That fangs are coming. And sooner or later, you have to pee, Wearing chains.     Such a life does something to you. It...

Freedom covered me in bubble wrap To protect me from life Because that stuff would surely kill me. It took a while before it was safe to feel again. To look at my face in the mirror and count the bruises. It took a while before I believed That smiles were not a disguise To hide evil.   Freedom didn’t come with a map To help me find my way back home, Or to navigate...

Misrepresented. The artistic renderings Had cast me as a saint. Separation Makes the heart grow fonder. But it doesn’t teach you how to paint A man you never really saw. The one that left never came back. I did.   No firetrucks came To put out my burning life. It was consumed like wood, hay and stubble. Deconstructed By hellfire missiles. As I sort through the rubble, At the bottom of that pile Is a...

I’m untouchable. People think my shadow Has PTSD land mines. They keep their distance, Heads down, Safe behind the line Of yellow Traumatic Hazard Tape. No one wants to get blown to hell. Look what it did to me.   Life gave me chains To wear on my ankles. I broke them and made wind chimes. They sing how the breeze doesn’t blow back But forward. That love always rhymes. I have my storms. Depressions...