Knowing they have no intentions to harm
I feel at peace beneath the trees
Weathered from many storms just like the
Girl who lives on the third to last house
On the right side of the street
Comforted by the sounds of the hounds barking at night
And the fire station about a mile away
Wailing in the night
But no one seems to listen
Feeling exposed in the stalls of the toilets
You think every eye that passes by is on you
Even though it's a woman's bathroom
The sink faucet is on hot but it feels ice cold
Like the front I put on to protect myself
My wrists are bleeding so to comfort myself
I lick my wounds
Like the tattered Tom cat after fighting for scraps
His fur manged and filthy
But we have some common interests
Like wandering with the feelings that guide us
Watching beetles scuttling around the sidewalks
Eating whatever fills us up even though we're picky
Even if it's the same meal every single day
Sometimes when it rains I like to dance
In the puddles that show my reflections when the sun shines high
The creepy old man down the corner scowls
Any time I walk by that house
I stick to the right side of the street when I go by
If only to appease him
But when he's not outside
I flip him off with two fingers
And I think that maybe people are overrated
But so is sadness
Becoming so comfortable with pain
You almost crave it; you can taste it
The C-PTSD Memoir
By Archgoat
From a tortured mind and soul More