In The Dark

To My PTSD

I hate when you give me panic attacks.

Or those horrid flashbacks.

I really hate when you make me cry.

But at least it's only at night.

You seem to like keeping me up.

But getting no sleep really sucks.

What's up with these anger issues.

Then the switch to needing tissues?

Why did you take away my motivation?

You're being nothing but a complication.

I have no idea why you came.

It feels like you're playing a sick game.

I don't understand your point in my life.

You're really putting up a fight.

You got these voices inside my head.

Are you sure you want me dead?

Cause every time I try, you pull me back.

As if saying, "wait! Not like that."

Please tell me what I should do.

You're the only one I've been listening to.

You're the only one who listens to me.

You always hear about my disease.

You never complain when I talk too much.

And you've never told me to shut up.

But you're really making my life a mess.

It extended from my childhood I guess.

You're forcing me to deal with things I've pushed down.

But I can't deal with all that right now.

They say you can come from childhood abuse.

I guess I can thank my sister for giving me you.

I wish I could say it was nice having you here for a while.

But I think it's time you found someone else to rile.

Though I know I can't get rid of you that easily.

The harder I try, the more you tease me.

You are making my life too hard.

I pray on my knees to God.

In this letter to my PTSD.

I hope you will hear my pleas.