PTSD AND ME
As dismal flashbacks visit me,
I go to the treasury of my memory store,
Where always waiting there to see
Is nostalgia, beautiful to me, and all the more,
A spade, to bury each haunting memory;
Like an armistice, it ends the war
As dismal flashbacks visit me,
I go to the treasury of my memory store,
Where always waiting there to see
Is nostalgia, beautiful to me, and all the more,
A spade, to bury each haunting memory;
Like an armistice, it ends the war