A pen's inside me
Twisting and turning
Branching to the start like a tree
I'm reliving these moments, churning.

A slam of the door
To me, so much more
Your voice's inflection
Makes me full of fear and regression

I'm a VHS tape
Noise being a pen
I'm staring at the drapes
Projector in my mind, again.

It flashes what was before
And it's making me torn
But nobody else could even see
This movie theater, named PTSD