What do I do... Sad. Sad all the time. No escape. I just want to... You know, fall into reverse, wake up where I'm happy again. Where is that place though? What makes me think that there is such filly-foolish thing? Can't it go away? I'm plagued by this daft sadness, I can't help it. Cry. Cry for me please. Scream for me too, I don't know when or where I'll be able to do that. Cant I just... Someone told me that I need to feel and hold it in. No. Just, no. I just want to... Gray nights and gray days are my normal, my abnormal is when the sun blinds my poor eyes. Can't I just.... Whatever. I'm stuck. Not leaving. What do I do? I do nothing. I won't do anything. I am unable to push this sadness away like a child pushes their food. Not a dreamer, just a receiver of nightmares. Why won't I just.. Die? Die in the cold hard glass that may not be bullet proof, but resistant; resistant to the falsely sugar coated speech on life and..
Love.
What is to come is, again,
Unknown;
But I'll fight another day. for you, not for me.
YOU ARE READING
Poems by Someone With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. (PTSD.)
PoetryPoems are by me. Inside this interweb book is an abundance of fear, pain, anger, depression, and emptiness. It is not much, it may not be anything, but it is who I am. You may get to know me, if you really try. Even so, you may read if you'd like. S...
