PTSD, Let Me Be
When I was young and small,
you were angry, mean and tall.
I hated you for what you did.
In my closet is where I hid.
Not wanting to see your look
or how strong your left hook.
Always afraid of what you might do
I was so terrified of you.
Your words cut like a knife,
changing dreams I had for my life,
shattered what I could have been,
hated myself at the age of ten.
Never knew when you would blow
or which side you’d decide to show.
Didn’t matter though
there was nowhere to go.
The damage occurred,
boundaries were blurred.
A love, safety and protection thief
is what you became with no relief.
Treated dogs and children the same.
Punished to obey. What a colossal shame.
Now that I’m getting older.
My love for you has grown colder.
Your behavior has not changed
and maybe even more deranged.
You have become more of a trigger,
recently I notice the changes much quicker.
I’m so sorry it is this way,
but my words cannot sway.
I cannot even speak when you are near.
PTSD sets in from anxiety and fear.
A natural response of flight or flee
from possible trauma we cannot see.
It’s the brain’s protection from danger
and you, a familiar kind of stranger.
Please P.T.S.D.
let me be.
I’ve had more than enough of you.
Joy, love and peace are long overdue.
I expect you to be gone tomorrow,
for I have a life to live and places to go.
~written by Susan Walz
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