Traumotion - Trauma and Emotion

Sometimes, I feel like I have PTSD Depression damages me in distress I’m somewhat mad and sad and yet glad, but it’s not rad… It feels bad…it’s the best thing I’ve always had…my dad… Seems to go through so much lately as well as mom, I fear My bros and sisses are going through things too I see and hear Sorry, maybe it was my fault… For being in my isolative occult… Due to mind abuse and past assault Also, other abuse…that I won’t want to recall But, it repeats in my head in utter dread in such a lonely hall… Cranium is numb and I am but a bread crumb Give me some wisdom and insight of taking slight wing Yes…it was all a sickly sad thing like a temporary fling Poetry is painful and passionate to write unfortunately I am not feeling good – misunderstood in every neighborhood, Sarcasm is an organism within me before dawn and dusk – fun in the sun I am a Dr. Seuss that has turned to Edgar Allen Poe…like I should…right on… Sorry that I am sad in front of you all… It just feels awful and good in my skin… I love, yet hate this sting of resentment that dares to tear me apart But, all I get is jealousy that isn’t even close to God's gracious, zealous art Why does God love me? Why do I dislike me? Maybe… Perhaps mishaps will drive into a ditch Sorry if I hurt your ears if I sing off pitch I sing for me, most for me… Not just for merely everybody Yet, I am afraid of judging eyes, hunting me down, so Lord, hear all my cries Oh man, I lost it all, I sigh a silly amount of sighs…it sighs within the sighs I ran like I can in the sand of time and lost in the dust of your goodbyes I try to write with my heart and things…go with my own unique flow Flared-up feelings have contaminated brains that made me feel low Thunderstorms of screwed-up everything kills me alive and drives me down the lane of sickness, you know? I am speaking out of my buttocks, my bad, won’t throw a fit I feel everyone here and now, so sad and stuff My words don’t seem right to me, hardly ever fully glad about it I am nothing to anyone it feels…life’s real rough People backfire and nonsense when I tell them my shameful symptoms In the heat or cold of the moment or even luke-warm They seem to act like I am the predator and they are the boohoo victims well, I don’t feel sorry for them for I did them no harm Or a little, but non-intentionally or the opposite I bet I choose not to remember moments like that, no regretful fit I'm upset because I am trying to find a comfortable outlet To give me, myself and I some company and others' too I admit Being me doesn’t make me truly happy today Yet, I was hyper with honesty and happiness… It hides the masquerade of mishaps and crap I experience in dismay Aren’t I an expert at hiding? Such madness… Shower me with aqua adjuration, sprinkled with shiny sun Leaves me feeling fresh and clean and I don’t know when I will be your adorable amber stone or an eager emerald one Where have I been? Here I am in Misery Alley again...again… Ugliness inside will fade to gray soon…like evening after afternoon I am always moody these fine, yet a let-it-all-go, rainbow balloon Forget to remember the days of the past that were horribly negative, oh well, I’ll live Bring me benevolent, Brazilian nature or Madagascar jungles – how really impressive PTSD haunts my mind Bipolar taunts my emotions Which thought bubble should I find? Some positive ones? Yes, definitely in mind At least…things could get better I won’t rely on things, getting worse God will give us long-lost lands...so liberating… At least…we have AC in this hot weather God has us all in good hands…not frustrating… There is plenty of godly radiance rehearse PTSD – do I have that? Probably so… Or no…haven’t a clue; I don’t know! Oh.. I am pacifist Don’t use fist But, I do have a revealed voice…. So, you and I could and should rejoice. It is almost absolutely relatable That, we, in a way, are unstable But we are able to be rid of the PTSD label We can do what we are able and capable of With God's help, nothing is impossible, love