I use to be so young and free.
Till Uncle Sam got a hold of me.
He made me a lean, mean, killing machine.
So I could be shipped off to war.
To protect where the eagles soar.
I did my tours.
Thinking nothing more.
Till night when all I see is war.
I use to be so young and free.
Please help me rid this PTSD

01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

(revised 06-26-16)

There are many, very good poets- (on this site)
There are many, very good writers-(also on this site)

Different styles-
Different ideas-
Conveyance of thought

"A writer can describe a bowl of fresh fruit-
whereas, a poet can smell one!"

Then, There are those-
who can do both!
              v
              v


"Good Morning, Sally!"

"Good Morning, Vicki!"

copyright: richard riddle 10-16, 2015