C-PTSD; pt 1

Originally written: January 11th, 2020

it’s just one of those nights

where my body

aches with stale

uneasiness.

it moves from my stomach

to my chest,

with an unsettling

creep.

there is no reason,

only the shadow

of a memory

long forgotten.

the scar tissue

of a time that’s been

pushed too deep

into my soul.

i’m learning to scrape

out the weeds

that have grown

so deep within me.

but this ache

in my body

keeps me weak.

keeps me tired,

keeps me awake

for far too long.

i don’t know where to go from here.

i can’t escape this place

in which i call home.

the body

that has been taken from me

time

and time

again has finally

been left to

rest and has done

nothing of the sorts.

i need to wash my mind,

but my hands are dirty.

i need to rest my head

but this bed remembers.

i need to leave this home

but where will i go?

how do i purge myself of this?

my home is on fire,

and I am locked in the attic

with smoke in my lungs, and no way out

trapped behind the burning doors of memory; the air growing thin

i guess i’ll just close my eyes.

hold myself tight,

and pray that my dreams bring me to a

place of safety

a place of peace,

and that the morning sun

will shed a new light on this earie room,

reminding me once again,

that everything will be ok.