Living this conflicting life of regret and reality
living this conflicting life of confrontations and morality,
treading on this weak link of trust and animosity.
Living in this fear that what if those memories ever return,
or if am I even human enough to live with them.
Past days of bloodshed and lead bullets,
past life of hate and dead merits,
these ghosts from my past seem to be chained in me,
they almost seem to breathe with me.
Not knowing anymore, would I survive this chaos,
not knowing anymore, am I willing to escape this pathos,
not wanting to accept If the past was indeed the real me.
or am I still stuck in this labyrinth carved in me?
Everyday battling this conflict,
everyday holding on to the leash,
I live with this emotional rust and creeping insanity.
Waiting for my tryst with death,
Aching for my ending days of rest,
I tend to wander afar in my head,
and again end up in my soul instead.
If life was somewhat different at this frame of time,
Then what new flavors of suffering would I have encountered.
Or what new warmth of smiles I would have seen.
PTSD is a real deep wound not just a scar of war.
Inspired by the movie The Hurt Locker.
