A short story style poem

I slam my glass down
Why can’t I hide
Why can’t I drown
Why hadn’t I died

With all of my friends
Why when death began to fly
Why did they all meet their ends
Why did I survive

I just want the pain
Of it all to go away
Of this ache in my brain
But it wont even if I pray

So let me pour another drink
Of my favorite rum
Of amnesia so I dont have to think
I will drink myself dumb

Because I can’t take
Life as it anymore
Life only makes me ache
So I continue to pour

I may have survived the war
But Post Traumatic Stress
Is too much for me to ignore
My life has become a mess

Will anyone pray for my soul
Will anyone bother to attend
When they put me in a hole
When my life comes to an end

I’ve seen so much death
I am labeled a veteran
I can no longer draw breath
I hope I make it into heaven

Because I can no longer go on
This will be my final dawn


12 thoughts on “PTSD

    • Oh no no no I am not a war vet! I have had family members who are war vets and I just know a lot of veterans in general. It was a story – meant to a paint a picture of what life with PTSD can be.


      • Well, I’m sorry for your family members who are vets, and all vets–and relieved it is not your personal story/situation. It is so heartbreaking–I remember trying to talk to Viet Nam vets (yes, I’m OLD).

        Liked by 1 person

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