#PTSD #SpokenWord #endthestigma
Oh the longing for the touch of another’s hand to ease the burden that is my coffin upon my shoulders unnaturally heavy. Is there no one out there to come to thy rescue, or is it merely me sending out the wrong cue?
These nightmares a scolding reminder of times better left forgotten. Though the desire runneth over with molten flames, the visions cripple with the rage that only death could ever portray.
The insomnia tearing at the soul as the amnesia weakens the body whole, yet split in two. A cry for help unheeded, a question screamed fallen upon deafened ears now brings thoughts unneeded, a young life undefended.
Flashbacks to a day thought picture perfect in fantasy turned out to be incapable of being any more horrific then these visions that I see. The minutes spent in glory turned to days spent in worry, now cursed to a lifetime of gory memory.
Oh the longing to be free, free from these sleepless nights and malevolent lights and painful mental fights.
There is no solace to be found in these episodes that persist to utterly erode thy conscious, the feeling of claustrophobia resonating through the echoes of cries long since faded, struggling against the suffocating tears drip from the eyes blinded.
Longing for the touch of another’s hand to ease the burden that is my coffin upon my shoulders unnaturally heavy and be set free. Free from these sleepless nights and malevolent sights and painful mental fights. Longing to be exercised from this malevolent
Post Traumatic Stress demon Disorder.