Sunday, December 11, 2011

I can't breathe - A poem about life with PTSD


From somewhere inside comes a voice,
it whispers, "I can't breathe".
I fight through it... push through it... soldier up,
gasping, clawing, and failing.

When good isn't good enough.
When hope seems pale.
When everything is crushing... pushing,
punching, fighting, and failing.

And there that voice is again, now stronger,
a stern voice from my gut, "I can't breathe."
I keep turning the other cheek... pushing it all away,
searching, trying, warring, and failing.

Sleep is what I need but it won't come.
Help is what I need but where would I start.
How would I begin to explain the pain,
the anguish, the longing, the hatred of failing.

Failing. Failing. Failing.

The voice is screaming now.
I can't breathe, I can't breathe,
I can't f-ing breathe.
I hate PTSD.
I hate what it did to him.
I hate what it's doing to me.

I just can't breathe.

2 comments:

  1. Some days are like that... honestly, more than I particularly want to admit. -Gayle

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