Ptsd

#X.
Posts: 142
I've entered a period when
I feel so fucking blue.
Work dries me,
memories aren't kind to me.
The bad ones have been triggered
in a single second, that last
as I paddle backward in my chair.
I lie in bed, tissues near,
memories become pictures
color's vivid, and not willing to leave.
I spent a lot of money on therapy
to take the bad days away,
and de-sensitize the footsteps ahead.
Late at night, my eyes open
white and bright. I focus and
concentrate trying not to replay
my abundance of fear. Afraid to
tell my story to the ones I hold dear.
The lines on my face, the spasms
in my fingers, they are symptons'
of tucking memories far away.
I just hope with time, that the damage
from my yesterdays become
obsurred and in memory
the edges are dull in color,
and in guilt. #X.
I feel so fucking blue.
Work dries me,
memories aren't kind to me.
The bad ones have been triggered
in a single second, that last
as I paddle backward in my chair.
I lie in bed, tissues near,
memories become pictures
color's vivid, and not willing to leave.
I spent a lot of money on therapy
to take the bad days away,
and de-sensitize the footsteps ahead.
Late at night, my eyes open
white and bright. I focus and
concentrate trying not to replay
my abundance of fear. Afraid to
tell my story to the ones I hold dear.
The lines on my face, the spasms
in my fingers, they are symptons'
of tucking memories far away.
I just hope with time, that the damage
from my yesterdays become
obsurred and in memory
the edges are dull in color,
and in guilt. #X.
"The Poet is a madman lost in adventure."
-Paul Verlaine-
"With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion."
-Edgar Poe-
-Paul Verlaine-
"With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion."
-Edgar Poe-
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
-
#X. wrote:I've entered a period when
I feel so fucking blue.
Work dries me,
memories aren't kind to me.
The bad ones have been triggered
in a single second, that last
as I paddle backward in my chair.
I lie in bed, tissues near,
memories become pictures
color's vivid, and not willing to leave.
I spent a lot of money on therapy
to take the bad days away,
and de-sensitize the footsteps ahead.
Late at night, my eyes open
white and bright. I focus and
concentrate trying not to replay
my abundance of fear. Afraid to
tell my story to the ones I hold dear.
The lines on my face, the spasms
in my fingers, they are symptons'
of tucking memories far away.
I just hope with time, that the damage
from my yesterdays become
obsurred and in memory
the edges are dull in color,
and in guilt. #X.
Awesome stuff, I'm feeling that man, was that missing a C in the last verse and Obscurred?
Good stuff.:)Can not be arsed with life no more.0 -
reeferchief wrote:Awesome stuff, I'm feeling that man, was that missing a C in the last verse and Obscurred?
Good stuff.:)
Mostly a "C". Looked it up in the dictionary, there is no word close to obsurred. #X."The Poet is a madman lost in adventure."
-Paul Verlaine-
"With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion."
-Edgar Poe-0 -
very good
sad tho
life life lifefor poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce0 -
I love your stuff #x. Thanks for this one.NOPE!!!
*~You're IT Bert!~*
Hold on to the thread
The currents will shift0
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