PTSD

Post traumatic stress disorder they call it
I call it a memory jam in the heart core
I mean who can forget it the bomb blast
Legs arms limbs hand  head hands fingers
The smells the sounds the aftermath pain

Like it was yesterday we were in the war
yes deep in the trenches of France dying
Yes we were always dying and dying alone

No one to talk to when the memories come
triggered by loud noises by smell or song
Take these memories that are stuck there
Stuck in my head stuck in my heart now
I can't wait to die for these memories to
Die with me when I can wake into new life

Dam you masters of war your evil evil ones
You who give the orders to kill to starve to
Take the new the fresh the young the sweet
The innocent the bright eyes laughing ones
Turn them into zombies of pain  and suffering
When we cannot grow old in grace and beauty
Always the smell of death stalks us forever on

Like cobwebs hidden in the dark places deep