Whispers of the Soul

PTSD

The Weight of Memories

Beneath the skin, a heaviness resides,
An anchor of memories, where sorrow abides,
Each recollection, a stone that I bear,
A mountain of anguish, a weight hard to share.

They cling to my shoulders like shadows at dusk,
Whispering secrets, entangled in rust,
Every moment etched deep, a tattoo of pain,
A tapestry woven with threads of disdain.

I walk through the world, head held up high,
But inside I'm crumbling, beneath the sky,
With each step I take, the burden feels real,
A constant reminder of what I conceal.

Echoes of laughter now twisted in grief,
The joy that once was has turned to a thief,
Stealing the light from my heart and my mind,
Leaving me stranded, a soul left behind.

I carry their voices, their cries, and their fears,
A chorus of shadows that drown out the years,
In the quiet of night, when the world's fast asleep,
The weight of their stories begins to seep.

My body grows weary, my spirit feels thin,
As memories linger, like ghosts in the din,
I long for release, for the chains to be cast,
To lighten my load, to free me at last.

But still I press on, through valleys of dread,
Each burden a lesson, a road that I've tread,
For though they may weigh me, they shape who I am,
A survivor, a warrior, through grief, I will stand.

So I'll honor the weight, let it teach me to grow,
Transforming the sorrow into strength, I'll bestow,
With each step forward, I'll learn to let go,
And carry the memories, but not let them show.