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PTSD


I scream myself awake,
Lie sweating in my bed,
But the screaming continue
Down there in my head.
And memories keep coming,
Streaming from my brain
Until that crucial day
In Belfast in the rain.
I held my mate in my arms
As he bled and died
Speaking of things we'd do
But I think he knew I lied.

And I think it blew my mind.
I lost the faith in the job.
You don't keep your mates
With dishonourable demob.
So hours spent in bars
In solitary drinking
T o anaesthetise the brain,
To try and kill the thinking.
It came to rock bottom.
My own special hell.
Three drinkless days
In a police remand cell

Until they set me free
Because of my service past;
And after all these years
Have promised help at last.
I think we are slowly winning
This long hard bitter fight
But some memories still haunt
During my screaming nights

The Falklands, 2 Gulf Wars, Bosnia, Iraq, Afghanistan
The number of veterans unemployed, in prison, or suffering from alcohol/drug related problems is frightening.   At least we no longer use the Firing Squad which I suppose is progress
PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder







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