PTSD

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 Piano treads secret doors,
unlike stubborn antique drawals,
once we open which was closed,
disrupts dust & cobwebs composed.
I don't need a harpoon sinking in
when my heart and liver's a rage
of alcohol and feel good haze
better than a chill with blankets,
Another day of no motivation.
Lost in a time I had sleeping in
and would never leave for 3 days,
the guilt of a burden of sins
not just my own but inflicted rage
My dreams were lesser than nightmares
so I got lost in all the adventures
like the hopping of a delightful hare.....

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Candide Diderot

Date: 8/23/2025 3:34:00 AM

"Piano treads secret doors" ... precisely. Keep playing those keys, they turn locks, they open doors. What is inside opens ever outward - the wrong door? keep playing, try again. Never give in; Never give up. There is life in music; there is music in Life.

Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
Date: 8/23/2025 3:35:00 AM

Thankyou Candide

CayCay Jennings

Date: 8/20/2025 12:08:00 AM

If this heavy poetic imagery is your reality, I pray writing serves as therapy. I can understand PTSD, but I can't understand going to war and not having it. It's a nightmare occurring in all 7 senses, minds & hearts that one can't wake from when needed. It is hell. It is wrong. It is everything that man should not do and I know it breaks God's heart that we never learn but continue to saturate the earth He gave us with blood. I regret this is your reality & will pray. Poetry hugs ... CayCay

Tom Woody

Date: 8/18/2025 5:23:00 AM

I have a relative who suffers. Twelve years of prison life keep haunting him, though he tries his best to have some good days. Wishing you peace and rest Ryan