Poem

What’s Worse

I see my PTSD sometimes as a blessing

I see others and see a curse

I see what others have experienced

And I think

How do I compare myself to them

The exposure, different

The experience, different

But it all ends the same

Crying

Huddled on the bathroom floor

Wishing the pain away

A family once loved,

No longer understansds

And the pain lingers

The memories constant

Anger, rage, fear, exhaustion

It comes

It goes

But it never leaves completely

The feelings deaden

Soon it all empties

Into nothingness

Until there is only moving forward

Enough to function

Enough to process the experiences

And allow

Some kind of new reality.