Training our bodies to understand,
What strength and honor embody and it’s so grand.
Until we are weak and fractured,
And we realize that we’re all manufactured.
So we’re racing against the odds,
Praying to all of the gods.
Hoping that they will give us light and balance,
To all of the words that we used in parlance
Finally, we can see the rays of hope,
Only to find it’s a phrase with a steep slope.
Into the past when I was young and nave,
Or to the future when I am strong and brave.
Young or old
We have sprung into feelings,
With which have been untold.
Coming home left alone,
Just flying around like some kind of drone.
Looking in with your eyes you judge us all,
But you don’t understand how far we’ve crawled.
And instead of reconstructing our inner beauty,
You leave us with nothing but misery and scrutiny.
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Your way of describing PTSD really helps to humanize what people have tried to so hard to avoid humanizing nowadays. Your phrasing, especially with the first four lines, is just perfect for that. Sometimes we need a little more humanity in the conversation to see those that are suffering behind the conditioned hardness, and so that we can give them the understanding that they need.
Thank you for the beautiful comment. I too feel that people have a hard time humanizing or at least relating to what PTSD is and I want to give them my take on it. I hope you found the poem beautiful and I pray that I did the title justice and again thank you for the beautiful comment.