I sit on the back porch
Just to watch the sunset
And envision the things
That I cannot forget

The loss of my son
When Maisey became my pet
The yoke of the loss
I can't cast off yet

The pain deep down inside
Deep in my core
It's tearing me apart
I am always sore

The time my leg was separated
Into parts 4
The personal attacks on my psyche
Which I abhor

The amnesia
The mind it grows weak
I want to get the words out
While I can still speak

The words they bore in
This thinking of death
The panting the sweating
The shortness of breath

The early morning dreams
Even the ones that I miss
Every time that I think
Of that last cherished childish kiss

The depression
That causes that flash in your skull
Or just feeling listless
Wrung out, dull

All this in one package
How can that be
Well they gave it a name
It's called P.T.S.D.

                            M.H.