As time goes by, the Demons seem to come more frequently, they seem to catch the edge of my sanity.

Even when I smile, a smile which hides my pain and turmoil.

As time goes by, I see the faces of my lost comrades, my friends, those that stood with me as the lead flew around us.

Even when I smile, tears run down my cheeks and I look at the sky above wondering what am I doing here and they are not?

As time goes by, I look at myself in the mirror then I stare at my hands. Once clean now bloodied from doing what I knew what had to be done.

Even when I smile, I bear witness to the pain that I caused to those that would hurt. Yes, to do it again to protect those I love. I would do it again.

As time goes by, I suffer from constant nightmares, anxiety attacks, bouts of rage, remorse. Still I carry on.

Even when I smile, the thoughts never leave me. The weight of it all bears down on me like
Atlas carrying the world on his shoulder.

As time goes by, I stand strong, I smile, I carry on.

I dedicate this poem to all who suffers from PTSD, we suffer in silence. Though you may not see the scars, we at times hide them very well.

View roboam33's Full Portfolio





   If I was your son, I be your seed,

The one who let me out to this world,

If I was a punch, I would choose the one,

You gave to my pregnant mother,

If I was the traumatise child,

I would be the one listening his mother screams,

If you were holding the metal belt,

I would be the kid with the scare,

If you was the one broking glass on the floor,

I was the one walking bare feet upon it,

If there was a closest,

I was the one hiding inside it,

If was an beaten puppy with metal bar,

I was the son force to watched it,

If I was the man who was pushing his wife by the window,

I was the small child, weeping for help,

If I was the man scalping your mother,

I was the one holding the knife,

If I was the son of the woman begging for help,

I was the one ready to push the blade inside you,

If I had follow your path,

I was the animal trap in your cage,

If your were my father,

I would have stop drinking myself to death,

If you were my blood and flesh,

I am glad you took your delirium six foot’s under,

If I had a choice,

I wish, we could had the chance to spoke once,

If I could turn the clock,

I would tell you, I had long forgave you,

If you can hear me from above,

I was simply telling you, I love you dad.







Author's Notes/Comments: 

someone told me last week , forgiveness was not something you learn but a gift?

View crowpied's Full Portfolio