Post-Traumatic Stress
I dream of being safe. The dream goes unfulfilledAs much for me as for a soldier home at last
From months of terror. Sudden movements, noises,
Even flickering fluorescent lights return us to what's
Passed, but left such scars it can't be pushed away,
And these scars now restrict our motion. Safety,
Sought, but never felt, always is out of reach.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 95 times
Written on 2017-05-25 at 17:00
| Texts |
![]() by Lawrence Beck Latest textsIllFor Isabelle Unsightly Not the Man He Was The Minutes Crawl Past |
