Post-Traumatic Stress

I dream of being safe. The dream goes unfulfilled
As much for me as for a soldier home at last
From months of terror. Sudden movements, noises,
Even flickering fluorescent lights return us to what's
Passed, but left such scars it can't be pushed away,
And these scars now restrict our motion. Safety,
Sought, but never felt, always is out of reach.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 89 times
Written on 2017-05-25 at 17:00

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alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
very good, it helps a lot, you have tickled something

Powerful, insightful write. I will bookmark this one.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
A powerful insight into a horrid disorder that is never self inflicted.