Whispers of the Soul

PTSD

In the Dark Corners

In the quiet hush of late-night streets,
Where shadows stretch long and silence greets,
I tread softly, aware of the weight,
Of memories lurking, cloaked in fate.

A flicker of light from a distant lamp,
Unveils the ghosts in the corners, damp,
Their whispers seep through the cracks of my mind,
Bringing forth echoes of all I can't leave behind.

The scent of rain on warm asphalt air,
Draws me back to moments too heavy to bear,
The drop of a pin, the rustle of leaves,
Can unlock hidden doors, where my spirit grieves.

In crowded rooms, I stand on the brink,
Where laughter surrounds, yet I can't help but sink,
A laugh too loud, a voice just too near,
Stirs a tempest of dread, conjuring fear.

In the corner of shops, where shadows convene,
A flicker of fabric, a flash of a scene,
A stray glance, a smile, sends shivers down spines,
As the walls close in, and the past intertwines.

Bright colors collide, a burst of surprise,
But beneath the surface, a storm starts to rise,
The fabric of normalcy weaves tight,
Yet the threads of my being unravel in fright.

In the depths of the night, when the world is asleep,
The dark corners whisper secrets they keep,
They breathe life to visions I wish to forget,
Yet here in their silence, I linger, beset.

A clink of glass echoes, a song on the breeze,
Can send me spiraling, bringing me to my knees,
Each note a reminder of battles once fought,
In the theater of shadows, I am caught.

But amidst the lurking, I search for the light,
To reclaim my strength, to stand up and fight,
For even in darkness, there's courage to seek,
In the hidden corners, I'll learn to speak.

So I gather the fragments of all I've endured,
In the dark corners, my spirit is stirred.
Though triggers may haunt me, I'll rise from the pain,
Finding power in memories, strength in the rain.