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 P.T.S.D.
You've become another bad dream
In my sleep haunting me
With a gold-digging leech
At your side
Where you'd rather have
Some stranger
In your home
Than someone who was raised
With you.

No longer my little brother
Who ate worms for me
Close as two peas in a pod
Growing on the same vine
From the same root
Our mother dead
Although she tried
She lies cold
Her bones in the ground.

Now, just a bad dream among
The other bad dreams
That come in my sleep
It's no wonder
I don't talk to you
As who wants to be reminded
Of the hurt you've put me through
Sending me out into the streets
I don't know if I can ever forgive
It will eat at me
In bad dreams
As I live over and over
That's what post traumatic
Stress disorder does to a person
That's what your hate does to me

I hope you're happy.


9/24/2014 1113 cj





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