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Sometimes, I feel like I have PTSD
Depression damages me in distress
I’m somewhat mad and sad and yet glad, but it’s not rad…
It feels bad…it’s the best thing I’ve always had…my dad…
Seems to go through so much lately as well as mom, I fear
My bros and sisses are going through things too I see and hear
Sorry, maybe it was my fault…
For being in my isolative occult…
Due to mind abuse and past assault
Also, other abuse…that I won’t want to recall
But, it repeats in my head in utter dread in such a lonely hall…
Cranium is numb and I am but a bread crumb
Give me some wisdom and insight of taking slight wing 
Yes…it was all a sickly sad thing like a temporary fling
Poetry is painful and passionate to write unfortunately
I am not feeling good – misunderstood in every neighborhood,
Sarcasm is an organism within me before dawn and dusk – fun in the sun
I am a Dr. Seuss that has turned to Edgar Allen Poe…like I should…right on…
Sorry that I am sad in front of you all…
It just feels awful and good in my skin…
I love, yet hate this sting of resentment that dares to tear me apart
But, all I get is jealousy that isn’t even close to God's gracious, zealous art
Why does God love me?
Why do I dislike me? Maybe…

Perhaps mishaps will drive into a ditch
Sorry if I hurt your ears if I sing off pitch
I sing for me, most for me…
Not just for merely everybody

Yet, I am afraid of judging eyes, hunting me down, so Lord, hear all my cries
Oh man, I lost it all, I sigh a silly amount of sighs…it sighs within the sighs
I ran like I can in the sand of time and lost in the dust of your goodbyes
I try to write with my heart and things…go with my own unique flow
Flared-up feelings have contaminated brains that made me feel low
Thunderstorms of screwed-up everything kills me alive and drives me down the lane of sickness, you know?
I am speaking out of my buttocks, my bad, won’t throw a fit
I feel everyone here and now, so sad and stuff
My words don’t seem right to me, hardly ever fully glad about it
I am nothing to anyone it feels…life’s real rough

People backfire and nonsense when I tell them my shameful symptoms
In the heat or cold of the moment or even luke-warm
They seem to act like I am the predator and they are the boohoo victims 
well, I don’t feel sorry for them for I did them no harm 

Or a little, but non-intentionally or the opposite I bet
I choose not to remember moments like that, no regretful fit
I'm upset because I am trying to find a comfortable outlet
To give me, myself and I some company and others' too I admit

Being me doesn’t make me truly happy today
Yet, I was hyper with honesty and happiness…
It hides the masquerade of mishaps and crap I experience in dismay
Aren’t I an expert at hiding? Such madness…

Shower me with aqua adjuration, sprinkled with shiny sun
Leaves me feeling fresh and clean and I don’t know when
I will be your adorable amber stone or an eager emerald one 
Where have I been? Here I am in Misery Alley again...again…

Ugliness inside will fade to gray soon…like evening after afternoon
I am always moody these fine, yet a let-it-all-go, rainbow balloon
Forget to remember the days of the past that were horribly negative, oh well, I’ll live
Bring me benevolent, Brazilian nature or Madagascar jungles – how really impressive 

PTSD haunts my mind
Bipolar taunts my emotions
Which thought bubble should I find?
Some positive ones? Yes, definitely in mind
At least…things could get better
I won’t rely on things, getting worse
God will give us long-lost lands...so liberating…
At least…we have AC in this hot weather
God has us all in good hands…not frustrating…
There is plenty of godly radiance rehearse

PTSD – do I have that? Probably so…
Or no…haven’t a clue; I don’t know! Oh..
I am pacifist
Don’t use fist
But, I do have a revealed voice….
So, you and I could and should rejoice.
It is almost absolutely relatable
That, we, in a way, are unstable
But we are able to be rid of the PTSD label

We can do what we are able and capable of
With God's help, nothing is impossible, love
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