PTSD
1.Why do I cry towards the sky,
If I could, would I even try?
If I could reach out to my dreams
Would I drop all the heavy things?
2.And will I ever open up?
My lips are sealed, had too much stuff,
I want to see, the lights are shut,
Wish I could speak, my tongue is cut.
3.I hear it takes some time to heal,
Until your heart is made of steel,
Until your skin rejects each touch,
I think I may have healed too much.
4.Stop insisting, I can’t do it!
And it’s more comfortable to quit;
I’m still outnumbered by my fears,
Will spend my life counting down years.