Day 5: PTSD Blues

PTSD Blues

Between the wars, I forgot what a poem is.

Between the wars, I forgot what a poem is.

Now I live between the stacks; I don't know where home is.

See, I used to speak my mind all the time.

You know I used to speak my mind all the damn time.

Now I've got a rosary of stories to pray on; to speak them would be a crime.

So damn haunted, feels like a joke.

You know I'm so damn haunted, it feels like a joke.

Hell, I've started numbering my suicide notes.

You say you'd love me if I'd just be more open.

You say you love me, but I must be more open.

Well I broke the silence once, and baby, it's still broken.