deepundergroundpoetry.com
What You Can't See (Is Fucking Killing Me) open letter
I am not a Soldier, but I have scars that you CAN’T see, and they’re gonna KILL me.
I have never fought a War, but I am in constant battle with my own fucking mind.
I hold this gun stead in my hand because I am too fucking scared to let it go.
Yet, I am dead inside; numb to any and all emotion...
What is emotion...can...can it hurt me?
It’s weird though...I feel no emotion and yet, I am overwhelmed with shame
And my aggression is forever near the boiling point.
I sleep lonely and cold, but...no...Fuck that...I can’t sleep...that’s when the video plays...
(Or maybe its replays...I don’t fucking know)
That hellish, diabolical night when I watched my mother, father, and baby sister get killed in the fire.
The Police said it was arson, and that they ‘would do whatever it takes to find who started it...’
That was six years ago...but I’m the one who’s lost his freedom.
See, they say ‘what doesn’t kill you; makes you stronger...’
But I beg to differ, what you CAN’T see is fucking KILLING me...
The constant paranoia and insomnia...I told you I’m fucking dead inside.
Tormented by visions of the fire that killed my mother, father, and baby sister
I...I mean I can’t even stand the smell of a lit cigarette without seeing my sister surrounded by flames.
The winter’s the worst though, when you can see the exhaust from every fucking car that passes by...
Or...actually...no I take that back...the worst is hearing sirens...the screams from coming from some stranger as they carried my baby sister out of our burning house...I think it was my sister...
OH GOD, WHY THE FUCK DID I HAVE TO FUCKING GO THERE?!?!?
...
...
...
It was a Friday night, I was supposed to be in bed too, but Bon Jovi was playing...I had to go...
I got back around one...and then I was talking to some Police officer and I started crying...
Why the fuck was I crying?
...
...
...
They say I have some kind of mental health disorder called
PTSD: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
They say there are pills and councillors that can help...but let’s face it...that shit ain’t fucking free!
I don’t know what any of that shit really means, but what I do know is
I am not a Soldier, but I have scars that you CAN’T see, and they’re gonna KILL me.
I have never fought a War, but I am in constant battle with my own fucking mind.
I hold this gun steady in my hand because I am too fucking scared to let it go.
Yet, I am dead inside; numb to any and all emotion...
I have scars that you CAN’T see, and they have KILLED me!
PTSD IS REAL...PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD...LET'S LOSE THE STIGMA, NOT LIVES!!
Published 5th Feb 2016
| Edited 6th Feb 2016
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5th Feb 2016 9:40pm
damn this is deep and daring you write about things that are hard for others to write about and she'd light on things other people don't understand amazing.
5th Feb 2016 10:47pm
Thanks Amari, yeah I try to push the envelope and keep my writing somewhat daring and controversial. Thanks for the read and RL cheers
Anonymous
6th Feb 2016 00:56am
Fuck....
6th Feb 2016 6:09am
Anonymous
10th Feb 2016 10:34pm
Yeah... it explains all the shit perfectly.....
10th Feb 2016 4:45am
I don't know if this makes any sense, but this poem hit me in a different way than it may have hit others. I've never experienced PTSD or the loss of immediate family in such a way, but every single line relating to being scared of yourself and what is wrong with you was completely relatable. That really hit home, man! Keep up the great writing!
10th Feb 2016 6:04am
Thanks for the read and comment.
I ain't going to pretend to know what you meant by that but I will say and honestly mean I am here if you need to talk
I ain't going to pretend to know what you meant by that but I will say and honestly mean I am here if you need to talk
