Liberscribes/Poetry/PTSD/Mental Health


A sunny gloomy day
For the man who once
Went through horrible moments.
A man who saw horrors only death can imagine.

When from the skies, a sound he heard
To a corner he rushed, shivering.

His shaking hands on his face,
He wanted to hide, to escape.
No more bloody moments
He wishes.

It’s been two years since he got back
But not the same anymore.
Because he’s lost his true self at war.

The doctor said,
He is one more victim of PTSD.
But no one cares.

Paterne Freeman Shadowriter, Lyrics of Revival. Poetry Volume

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