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war trauma PTSD

Awaken
with imaginary death calling his name
she holds him close
trying to diminish
the images that ravage his brain

he pushes her to the ground
to shield her from his imaginary mortar
sleep no longer a routine
interrupted by the complexity
of such a horrific disorder

embarrassed
He opens his eyes
she holds him tightly in her arms
nursing him back to realization
kissing him gently on his forehead
Stroking his hair
as he dozes back to sleep
until the next time he’s awaken.

can anyone relate to this poem

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