Walls,
dividers,
and partitions
are the glue of the DID brain.
When those start to crack,
fall,
and falter
chaos ensues,
and life is never the same again.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Tag Archives: Poetry
Happy Anniversary!
Hello Readers!
Today is the anniversary of A Year in the Life of PTSD! Thank you very much for being such great supporters of my blog.
I dedicate this poem to you, my readers, for all the continued support on here.
I Will Not Break
This day is not going to break me –
No way, no how, it is not.
Foggy days and vacant memory –
This day is not going to break me.
The dark place that knows me,
I implore it to set me free.
This day is not going to break me –
No way, no how, it is not.
More than this …
More than this …
a litany of memory gaps,
a fuzzy and foggy world, and
selves that work against each other.
I am more than this – I think, I believe …
I want it to be so, more than the sum of the parts of my selves.
But want can only go so far, what do you do when all you have is want?
One hardly has a map or plan.
It’s a prayer, some faith, and a Hail Mary throw or two.
It’s all we have, and so we’ll take it and run and run and run.
A Year in the Life of PTSD 