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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required that dark place had returned although I tried to conceal it but there it was again it had been years through medication therapy mass singing in the choir nothing worked I reached out to the veterans crisis chat line for military veterans and their families coping with ptsd they sent me literature I went to extensive groups my husband and I even volunteered attending weekly groups and still my ptsd just wasn't receptive I mean the night terrors were at bay sitting in group everyone in group has suffered people mingle I couldn't find not one living soul who wore wires pregnant on unborn children buying weapons and drugs for the fbi from junk sick officers my mental health was fading my therapist tried hypnosis which only brought memories of arson murder of nine my panic raised I had to be quickly sedated in her office I was being followed home invasions break ins and identity theft i feared my safety these were bitter family members of the killers dealers exposed to my wearing wires for the fbi clearly my mental illness was worse due to the sudden brain injury from a cicero car bomb crushing my skull I cried all the time like a toddler I was tired drain about to walk out in front of a bus me beautiful lovely me the phone rang it was crisis on the other end she said agent brown we are here for you and you belong in this world your children your parents love you i had no friends just choir members church members and disabled veterans i knew I was hated by so many gang leaders killers convicted and friends I knew were all part of my undercover work i found comfort saved because I saved many lives including the fbi agents sitting in their vehicles unaware corruption had provided the dealers riot gear to kill fbi agents myself and my children seated in cars with the fbi somehow I began to feel the fbi agents hated me too after all they installed the wires on my unborn children perhaps they needed me dead needed to keep me quiet an yet my therapist encouraged me to get it out my throat was closing up I couldn't breathe i didn't feel brave i didn't have courage i felt like a suicide bomber wired up going into hostage situations carrying secrets secrets killers dealers were breaking into my home to read secrets assassins were willing to ignite a bomb in my face secrets that would explode years later affected many many lives i was all alone I excepted it lonely was better isolation was a must I wasn't able to be in any crowd afraid of my shadow severe headaches here I was crying behind the maroon drapes again I truly was fed up with being threatened fed up with the breaks identity theft living going through the fakeness smiling for everyone else my own personal witness protection in plain sight going to the doctors therapist church groups meeting my only solace for peace was in volunteering pta military order of the purple heart and the special olympics giving of self helping restore communities caring for others takes the dreaded focus of suicide thoughts fighting madness screaming deep painful sadness when that dark place return
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