This poem is not mine. But it is a favorite of mine. I think of it a lot when trying to make sense of violent events in my past. I also think of it when I feel that I, and maybe all people who grapple with PTSD are like a lone, tired warrior up on a hill, looking at the horrors and wars of life, and feeling very chilled and frightened, and on your own.



ALONE



From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.



By Edgar Allen Poe

wow! y'all are so good. and it is so nice to have company in here, and lots of good stuff to read!

Thanks cookie,

I like reading your poetry on the forum. I wish I spent more of my free time writing poems.

Have A Good Day,

Rob

poem title- Jaded eyes.

There are many things I do that you don't have to in your life, emotionally healthy guy.

Can unlocked doors frighten you? someone might get in.

Do people taller than you seem scary?

How about people bigger than you?

Do you walk in a lit or dark parking lot with a key in your hand, In case you might be attacked?

Is the back seat of your car have a stranger hiding in it? ( pardon me , I have to go check my back seat now.)

Does the night frighten you? There are no fairy tale goblins or vampires out in the dark there, just REAL monsters-humans who might wait to attack you with clubs, with fists, with kicks, with knives, with other weapons too scary to mention.

If you want, come and find me curled up in fear sometime at my home when the real world and real violent and hideous people have gotten too much for me.

Spend about 20 minutes asking me about PTSD and fear and fright. I'll tell you nearly anything-but I warn you YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE THE FRIGHTENING THINGS YOU HEAR.

For Example, my country's Justice department says that 1 out of every 3 women that I know will at one time be attacked...........

I hang my head in fear and sorrow. Oh damn.



Please, could you stay outside my door until I fall alseep tonight? Suddenly I don't feel safe now.

They say I am "bitter" or "jaded" about my problems or that " I just won't get over them". Them being my problems.

Anytime, please come and talk to me for 20 minutes about my issues. You'll hear most of the real me. I ride an old and completely scary streetcar called "the crazy train". But it's the train I ride that is crazy. I am not crazy. I'm just recovering from a bunch of undeserved attacks.

Take 20 minutes and talk to me about fear and the things that can harm you and me in the world. You will come away understanding me a lot better. And maybe you'll do the right thing, And give me the freedom to solve my part of the twisted and violent and dangerous world on my own. Everyone is owed that freedom. If you feel like it, come talk to me about it, "emotionally healthy guy". But talking to me about it might partly shatter your idea, your idea that you live in a perfect and ideal and totally safe world.What do you think about it. Hmm? You still here?............

Wanna Talk?


Rob T.

The Space in THe Middle

Don't try to tell me you don't know, what I talk about,
iIts that space we often end up in the darkness and our sorrows,
we feel alone, abused , and abandonded.
its no ones fault at that particular moment but our memories,

Memories they say cant hurt you , they have not walked in my shoes.
Memories, you can forget, yes perhaps, but the pain will never go away.
and so I drift in to that place taht place of barren land,
where I am all alone and the feeling s rule the world.

I want to tell you that I am happy, things are all ok
I know too much to try and pretend, anymore, my life is real
no one can comprehend the places are minds go, Thank God for that .
for no one should ever have to live thru those memories.

so I put my fait hI God the Lord, and hope he'll keep me safe
if northing else if i should die than it will not be alone,
I believe that my life is full of sins many that I did not commit
but that I still have to bear, how hard the truth is every day


so for all of you, who have been to this place I commend you for getting pout,
I reach and claw my way, ou t I can not say her long,
its grip on me is very strong, it has caused me much pain and suffering
i have done things I wish I hadnt, because of this stupid place.
I pray that others can get out before they turn to dust
cause I feel that is what thi splace has done to me and now IM dust in the in the wind, blowing here and there
But never whole again
reaching out to friends and family to hold on to me one more time.

Here's one I wrote long long ago. Shocking to me how accurate it has played out since I wrote it. And I had (of course) far far less experience living than I do now.


ECITSUJ

Let me tell you of a time,
when there was little crime...
it was long long ago,
when it was cool to walk the line;
And the shock it was when a Judge said "That isn't so"...
long long ago, when I was young,
if you broke the law,
they would take you to your pa,
and he would settle it,
and right where you sit!
But that was then, and then ain't like it is now;
Because now criminals have rights,
so they can start fights,
and not get busted when you get accosted;
And they can steal both your car and your money,
so scary that it doesn't sound real,
but so real that it's not funny;
And when you try to defend yourself,
you can't, because that's not your right...
Why?
Ah Ha!
I think it's the politicians who are at fault!
It seems to be ok to lie,
Hey, the politicians do, so they can screw unto you,
But remember...
There's nothing you can do!
Politicians are a cruel bunch,
for they treat us like trash,
when their pay we try to slash;
And they'll take our right to vote,
so our homes they can invade,
so when you try to fight,
it is your throat they can cut,
because it is you they cannot persuade,
to give up your gun,
so the criminals can have fun;
And you will soon learn,
that an honest dollar you can no longer earn,
and that your freedom is gone,
so it will not be long,
'till you find that America is for rent;
All of this is to blame,
for Miss Liberty to lose her flame,
because we let the politicians take the Second Amendment;
And there's nothing that we can do,
yeah, me and you...
yes, that means all of you!
But, maybe there is something that we COULD do...
...maybe

How Will I Know

The breeze whispers this truth to me…
“You must forgive him to be free.”
I wonder, then, how will I know?
Will I forgive, or just say so?

Pretending things did not occur
Won’t lessen what I must endure.
Then what makes the forgiveness real?
Is there a difference I can feel?

How can I feel it was all ok,
And the past does not hurt this way?
I know that I must share the blame,
I did not speak, or say his name.

All I could do was turn my head.
Or try to hide beneath my bed.
Why didn’t I try to say no,
Or fight, or scream to take control?

Please tell me how I can forgive,
So I may once again just live,
To treat him like there’s no harm done,
And wait for peace that does not come.

I’m so confused and tired of life.
I need to quench this inner strife.
Dear breeze, just make it go away,
And let me try another day.



cathy

Why forgive the one who is wrong?
Or pretend to mend that deep a wound?
Or take any blame for being wronged?


Why not instead let angry real,
Express the way you really feel!
And pretend not the wound is gone.
But celebrate that life goes on!
For blame is not at all deserved
By the one who went unheard.
The battle deep inside was won
You survived, the peace will come….

I stood in a crowd
and thought they could see
the pain that was consuming me
But how would they know?
How could they tell?
I stood by my love
and thought that he could see
the pain that was consuming me
But how would he know?
How could he tell?
I stood by my self
and thought all could see
the pain that was consuming me
But how would they know?
How could they tell?
I layed in the coffin
and thought they could see
all the pain that had consumed me.
But no one knew. No one could tell.

Mary what did he do to you?
I stood there watching, but did not move
I banned all thought within my head
I told myself to feel no more
Why couldn't I move?
Why did I freeze?

I can never take away your pain,
or bring you back to earth again,
I challenged every word they said,
I screamed,yelled, kicked,and hid,
Sometimes only in my head
Sometimes I ran and hid outside,
It did not do me any good,
But at last I tried.