These memories on my wrist, are stinging.
Is this a version of PTSD?
My skin remembers the intensity of these pains but the wounds are long healed.
Or are they?
Suck in a breath, I try to clear my head.
What am I even thinking about? I wonder as I stare at my project for school.
Focus... I thought my brain was focused on my assignment but the slits on my wrist suddenly reopen.
Temporary, I search inward. Am I okay?
Begin to quiver, these hands of mine do...
Earlier, I spoke my mind and I was able to anchor myself.
Before, I would have cried, telling my story.
In truth, I don't look at it as pain, now. It's history.
Post-traumatic stress. The name of this mental disorder.
Wasn't my list long enough?
Anxiety, Depression, and OCD.
Do I truly need another addition to the list?
Sensitive, my skin is to anything that touches it.
Slight pressure causes me to flinch.
It's as if I'm bleeding all over again.
Spiritual tears leak from my eyes.
Why, six sense.
What is the meaning of all of this?
-
May 12, 2019
YOU ARE READING
Assurgent Construction
PoesiaA poetry collection of an American Filipino. the following expresses his thoughts and emotions as he studies abroad. This is the second book in Culture Distortion.
