Why go back
when you can move forward?
I face this question
each day I breathe.
It's not always so easy
to answer.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Keeps me looking back
to my past
behind my shoulder.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Usually associated
with our war heroes.
The ones who can't leave
the battlefield behind.
I am not one of them.
I am just
an anxious
a depressed
in pain
person.
But I can't help
that I have it.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
My battlefield
was the school,
the classrooms,
the playground.
The babysitter,
the dark closets,
the dark rooms,
the basement.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
The anxiety
the migraines
the depression
the fibro
no sleep.
All lead back
to square one.
The abuse
by my peers
by my teachers
by my babysitter.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Four easy letters
Four simple words
Lifetime in pain
from those simple things
from those not so simple things.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder.

but how do I explain to her that even though I know
that it's her hands touching me
I swear I can feel his?

How will I explain to her, whoever she may be,
that I will wake up at night screaming from the memory
of being pinned down by him?

I don't know how to explain it.
How do you explain it?

(d.d.b)

They say there's strength in numbers    

But I just want the voices in my head

                                . . .

                     TO GO AWAY

I am sick.

I have to keep telling myself that.

It's just a sickness that eats away at your heart,
Making you feel unworthy,
Useless,
Pointless.

And with proper treatment,
It can be lessened,
Though it will never go away.

It's just a sickness that deteriorates
Your self esteem,
Your confidence (if you had any to begin with),
And your relationships with others,
Because you sabotage all of them.

It's a sickness, right?
Because you get so tired of fighting it,
Tired of pretending to be okay,
Tired of being tired.
And dear God, you're so very tired.

And everything hurts,
And your patience is thinning,
Because you feel hopeless,
And the meds aren't working as quickly as you would have liked,
And you're still going through a harsh withdrawl from medications
The doctor told you to stop.

But there's just enough fight left in you,
Where all you want is to feel better
So you can laugh again.
So you don't make him so sad and worried.

It's a sickness, I am sure.
Because I feel so sick of it.

I am red with determination.
I refuse to let the darkness,
As I spiral farther into madness,
Consume me whole.

If it may consume me,
It'll at least be stuck with
One hell of a fight.

I am blue with steady hands, steady voice.
I am not one to give in,
And if I've made it this far,
I can make it farther.

I am green like the grass,
Green like the trees,
Green like flowers that haven't blossomed yet.

I am lively,
I am strong.
I will not allow
Myself to crumble.

I have come too far
Not to go farther.

I was always told
As if it were praise,
About how strong I am (emotionally).
About how determined I am,
About how much of a fighter I am.

My mother says: "We're all so proud of you, and anyone who isn't is delusional."

But I don't feel so strong anymore.
I don't feel very brave.
I don't feel like a fighter.

All this bravado I put forth for my mother,
And my siblings when they actually speak to me,
Just isn't enough.
I can't do it in front of you,
Because that front I have
Is such *******.

I'm vulnerable and scared,
And my confidence only comes out
In deflective smart remarks,
That have a tendency of offending
Most people,
And I'm sure sometimes even you.

I just want to be better.
I just want to be stronger.
But I'm nowhere near better,
And I don't feel very strong.

I only break when I know I'm allowed to.

I have to be stronger than this.
I'm too smart for my own good,
And I have a golden heart
With a rebel yell.

I am better than this.

I am stronger than this.

I'll be okay.

To comfort me the rain hums a tune
as if she could sense I was feeling down
I get buoyant by the soothing tone,
pick up the strands that once were broken

Drenched woods after the rain has gone,
with the wind,repeat it, but sounds like a moan,
it takes  much subtlety, to empathize, I learn
to evoke sublime feelings that touch and lift the soul.