PTSD Poems
#PTSD
PTSD poems, poetry about post-traumatic stress disorder, an anxiety disorder caused by experiencing a distressing event, like combat, a natural disaster, a car accident or an assault. PTSD can cause a sufferer to relive the traumatic event through nightmares and flashbacks, and they may experience feelings of isolation and guilt. PTSD symptoms are often severe enough to have a significant impact on a person’s day-to-day life.
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the silence is deafening when the echos fade away
1.
I dream in echoes
and memories
that never happened
I get lost in tangents
of what could be
I live trapped
in what ifs
and if onlys
Most days
I don't know
who I am
I only know
I want to be
more than this
2.
I'm the kind of person
that apologises to a pole
if I walk into it
I say sorry like a pray
like a curse
like a lament to Gods
who don't care
whether I'm sorry
or lying
only that I broke my day...
I dream in echoes
and memories
that never happened
I get lost in tangents
of what could be
I live trapped
in what ifs
and if onlys
Most days
I don't know
who I am
I only know
I want to be
more than this
2.
I'm the kind of person
that apologises to a pole
if I walk into it
I say sorry like a pray
like a curse
like a lament to Gods
who don't care
whether I'm sorry
or lying
only that I broke my day...
#depression
#MentalHealth
#PTSD
327 reads
9 Comments
No Limbo
I wish it didn't hurt this way
Wishing for it to not matter
Just feels as if I'm drowning
I come up for air at times
And it hurts worse to breathe
There's no limbo for this pain
No place to find to simply rest
Wishing for it to not matter
Just feels as if I'm drowning
I come up for air at times
And it hurts worse to breathe
There's no limbo for this pain
No place to find to simply rest
#sadness
#loneliness
#insomnia
#MentalHealth
#PTSD
199 reads
5 Comments
And the women
Tell the women
who tell the women,
who pass it down,
the unwanted hand,
the passive aggression,
actual aggression,
- control.
The women tell the women
who tell the women,
who pass it down,
of the nail that scrapes
at walls of consent,
unwarranted imagery,
the shrunken heart
that thrums in her chest
so reduced,
contained,
caged
until it is more than a conversation
between bar on bar on bar,
it's a howl,
it's a war cry,
a breaking of the bonds,
a waking in the cavity,
a song...
who tell the women,
who pass it down,
the unwanted hand,
the passive aggression,
actual aggression,
- control.
The women tell the women
who tell the women,
who pass it down,
of the nail that scrapes
at walls of consent,
unwarranted imagery,
the shrunken heart
that thrums in her chest
so reduced,
contained,
caged
until it is more than a conversation
between bar on bar on bar,
it's a howl,
it's a war cry,
a breaking of the bonds,
a waking in the cavity,
a song...
#anger
#hope
#PTSD #masculinity
#PTSD #masculinity
163 reads
5 Comments
Psychosomatic Disentanglement
A war-frayed silo
rented out by flickering muses.
Trauma-bred neural chamber
toed through by passing persons.
Codes bleed the papers.
Amygdala arm casings litter the shed.
Morse sirens read S.O.S.
years after gaslight flare bombardment.
Spring to spruce it up,
more windows to an environment post-conflict.
The sun pours in
on a creature of trauma.
The writer puffs exhaust from typing
indecipherable compulsive script.
The eyes peeking in mirror the same...
rented out by flickering muses.
Trauma-bred neural chamber
toed through by passing persons.
Codes bleed the papers.
Amygdala arm casings litter the shed.
Morse sirens read S.O.S.
years after gaslight flare bombardment.
Spring to spruce it up,
more windows to an environment post-conflict.
The sun pours in
on a creature of trauma.
The writer puffs exhaust from typing
indecipherable compulsive script.
The eyes peeking in mirror the same...
#hope
#humankind
#PTSD
#SelfDiscovery
#acceptance
123 reads
0 Comments
hidden inner strength
she had no idea I was watching
nudging her with my elbow from time to time
as was needed
that stab in the gut
redirecting her
silently
from within
all these years she’s called it intuition
and I’ve allowed it
because it suits me
she moves with purpose
though sometimes stumbling
always seeking balance
but it’s me shifting the weight
one foot
then the other
she handles the day to day
while I guide her
content to remain hidden
her loyal shadow
never far away
she navigates...
nudging her with my elbow from time to time
as was needed
that stab in the gut
redirecting her
silently
from within
all these years she’s called it intuition
and I’ve allowed it
because it suits me
she moves with purpose
though sometimes stumbling
always seeking balance
but it’s me shifting the weight
one foot
then the other
she handles the day to day
while I guide her
content to remain hidden
her loyal shadow
never far away
she navigates...
#secrets
#LifeChangingMoment
#PTSD #PersonalGrowth
#PTSD #PersonalGrowth
176 reads
10 Comments
the evil flower
you’ve still not found the thing in you
that’s so unloveable
but sometimes glimpse yourself
a product of the past
about whom your therapist said
“from the start
I knew there’d been abuse”
it sometimes feels like life
is just a fight against
what was put in your head
when you were 5 years old
the evil flower blossoming
between your ears
below your scalp
that if you feed it could remain
its own garden
until you’re 65
but grown in the bathroom at 5
as you hid
and...
that’s so unloveable
but sometimes glimpse yourself
a product of the past
about whom your therapist said
“from the start
I knew there’d been abuse”
it sometimes feels like life
is just a fight against
what was put in your head
when you were 5 years old
the evil flower blossoming
between your ears
below your scalp
that if you feed it could remain
its own garden
until you’re 65
but grown in the bathroom at 5
as you hid
and...
#childhood
#abuse
#memories #PTSD
#memories #PTSD
216 reads
5 Comments
From Tempest to Triumph: A Katrina Chronicle
In '05, Katrina knocked on my door,
Took my world, left me wanting more.
A decade in sorrow, a heart torn in two,
PTSD, anxiety, the companions I knew.
I questioned my being, I locked myself in,
Running from demons, I couldn't begin.
Yet in that long tunnel, a pinpoint of light,
Guided my journey back into the night.
Locked away, asking, "Who could I be?"
A soul searching for an identity.
The demons I ran from, now face-to-face,
In this healing journey, I found my place.
From scattered pieces, a mosaic made new, ...
Took my world, left me wanting more.
A decade in sorrow, a heart torn in two,
PTSD, anxiety, the companions I knew.
I questioned my being, I locked myself in,
Running from demons, I couldn't begin.
Yet in that long tunnel, a pinpoint of light,
Guided my journey back into the night.
Locked away, asking, "Who could I be?"
A soul searching for an identity.
The demons I ran from, now face-to-face,
In this healing journey, I found my place.
From scattered pieces, a mosaic made new, ...
#anxiety
#fate
#myself
#SelfReflection
#PTSD
122 reads
6 Comments
Safe Place To Scream
#BDSM
#spiritual
#SelfReflection
#PTSD
#metaphor
190 reads
2 Comments
Dark Past
There were cuts on my wrist,
I can still see the scars.
Like white powder lines,
separated like stars.
They’ve been written and scribbled,
chewed on and nibbled,
by the 2-year-old in my heart.
But the dark sky would be less bright,
without its stars.
I can still see the scars.
Like white powder lines,
separated like stars.
They’ve been written and scribbled,
chewed on and nibbled,
by the 2-year-old in my heart.
But the dark sky would be less bright,
without its stars.
#anxiety
#SelfHarm
#insomnia
#PTSD
#vulnerability
420 reads
0 Comments
Broken Hero
#depression
#lover
#addiction
#PTSD
#suffering
191 reads
1 Comment
BOMB
the shock
embeds itself
in the skin
the heart
the bones
the brain
so that every fiber
waits for the trigger,
and even
aging bones know
years after
the fact
and that bomb
only dozes --
restless,
volatile,
its reaction
visceral,
a toxic mist
rising
through layer
on layer,
seeping through
the meninges,
enveloping
the mind
embeds itself
in the skin
the heart
the bones
the brain
so that every fiber
waits for the trigger,
and even
aging bones know
years after
the fact
and that bomb
only dozes --
restless,
volatile,
its reaction
visceral,
a toxic mist
rising
through layer
on layer,
seeping through
the meninges,
enveloping
the mind
#PTSD
214 reads
2 Comments
One Day Soon
#depression
#SelfHarm
#OCD
#MentalHealth
#PTSD
153 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : PTSD Poems