PTSD. I’m holding the body together

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I’m holding the body together,

I can’t really speak for the soul,

they patched me up on the ward

and say that I’m just about whole.

The sweats in the night

leave me shaking

and in dreams there’s

a horror that walks

and whether I’m sleeping

or waking,

there’s always

a panic that stalks.

There’s anger which bursts

like a shell blast -

or the fall of a sudden grenade,

exploding from depths

that are hidden

in a minefield that’s ever re-laid.

And there’s something

that hides in the shadows

all it takes is a look or a smell,

like a mirror

the whole world is shattered

and each shard

a small piece of hell.

No sense, no rhyme and no reason

no magic to keep it away

whatever the month or the season

it comes any night, any day.

Yes, there’s something

that hides in the shadows

all it takes is a trick of the light

then I’m pinned on the ground

in the darkness

by a creature that feeds

on the night.

Yes, they patched me up

on the wards

and everything’s just about whole-

I’m holding the body together

but I can’t say the same for the soul.