WORDS OF THE LIVING
(PTSD)
The smoke is searing
Fiery flames are not disappearing
Vibrant yellows, sunset reds
Lick, beside our makeshift beds
Marshmallows in front of the campfire
Remembering the quagmire
Planes over head, typhoon and spitfireSounds of violence
Surround us
If now, only inside our brains
We cannot see the planes
Only the sound remainsFiery flames
Military aims
Searing smoke
Gunfire, as we awoke
Mellow yellows, blood reds
Men dying in their beds
Others see them, dying in their headsThis is the sound of war
Like nothing ever seen before
YOU ARE READING
Words Of The Dead- Words Of The Living- #Wattys2019
Poetry#1 in poetry- 26/7/18 Every day, thousands of people struggle with mental and physical illnesses, fighting battles people refuse to talk about. I'm here to change that. This poetry collection shines a light on mental illness, hopefully saving a few...