Pain
Morphine...takes the edge off the pain.
Coffee...takes the edge off the morphine.
Bone...takes the edge off the knife.
Nightmares, depression, post traumatic stress disorder.
Do I really have these?
I do not know.
I want this to end...but not like that.
Can't they fix me?
They call me broken...how true it is.
Not only is my neck broke...so too, is my spirit.
An iron will is now oxidized.
Faith and family is all I have.
Separation anxiety...
They have taken away all of my support and kicked me while i was down.
I made a friend today...
They committed him.
Alone, again. Still
48 hours.
That is how long it would take the world to know i am dead.
48 hours...two whole days.
They would just count me AWOL.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Omg. Trysten are you okay. Your poem is wonderful but dam it sounds like you are going through some rough times
-
makes me scared for my friends in the service. God bless you and your family
Adding your comment:
