ramblings and things

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Dedicated to those who suffer.  May they receive the help and consideration they' deserve.  I am not a PTSD sufferer.
Some of my fellow Veteran Support Centre Volunteers are.
I regard them with respect and awe for their bravery.
Dedicated to Mike and Rob

Homeless and Hungry
Are the words on my card.
I try to make eye contact
But I find it so very hard.
I feel so filthy dirty
After sleeping on the floor,
But grateful for the shelter
Of that little shop door.

If an IED had got me,
Maybe blown off a leg
They would know I'm wounded,
So I maybe wouldn't need to beg.
But I left the forces whole,
Just the screaming in my head
So they say I'm physically fit
And I should work instead.

 When the flashbacks happen
I writhe and scream with fear
Try to kill my devils with dope
Strong spirits, or even beer,
You see me as a derelict
Can't see the man inside
Full of bitter self loathing,
At loss of dignity and pride.

At night I slink off quietly, hiding
From a possibility I hate,
 Being found and recognised
By an old squaddie mate.
I am crying and I'm trying
So one day I'll break free
From Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
The devil slowly killing me.

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