PTSD – A Soldiers Story
By: Kermit Gipson
I wrote this poem in the middle of the sand, in a war that was called desert storm.
My life will never be the same after this, my mental state totally transformed.
I was airborne flown in a combat zone, the smell of death and decay had my young mind blown.
I wasn’t by myself but I still felt alone, didn’t look around to much afraid my fear would be shown.
Because I’ve never before, felt a bullet enter my body.
And it fucked my head up, seeing a bomb dismembered somebody.
See on the streets I was the shit, and thought I was hardcore.
But I’ve never in my life, had to kill another man before.
This is not a movie, I can’t just get up and walk out the door.
Saying to myself, shit this is really a war.
By the time I finally made it back home, I weighed 50 pounds less and my mind was gone.
I wonder how vets carried on and still exist, after enduring that type of mental conflict.
Made me want to bring my own life to a end.
Nobody understood that, not even family or friends.
Flashbacks going on inside of my head, made many of my nights sleepless.
Wondering if the pain ever decreases, from seeing men blown into a million pieces.
Finally I lay me down to sleep, as the voices in my head silently speak.
Falling off into a deep dream world, as the vision to the voices began unfurl.
Being where I’ve been, and seeing the things I’ve seen.
Night sweats and nightmares, are a constant when I dream.
Tho my dreams have no power to impress my mind, without the exquisite horror of its reality.
No matter how I try to forget and let go, I still see hollowed eyes of wars casualties.
Hearing moans and groans from wounded soldiers, is forever sketched in my mind.
Like a movie playing inside of my head, and someone keeps pushing rewind.
Where brave men lay in my arms, bleeding and slowly dying.
Visions of a lonely unmarked grave, there forever they shall be lying.
Holding him tight rocking back and forth, for his children I feel broken hearted.
As his warm blood races from his body, until his life is departed.
I’m so enthralled in the reality of the battle, it seems my mind gets lost.
Having murderous intuitions of revenge, and some crazy delusional thoughts.
Because through my own eyes I could clearly see, the unseen damage of wars reality.
Everyone sees what I appear to be, but only I know the war that’s going on inside of me.
I may be schizophrenic because I hear voices, and sometimes talk to myself.
Or is this normal for a person being where, the only thing he seen was death.
Confusing, disorienting, painful consciousness, of more nightmares to come.
Feels like I’m somewhere between the church and hell, and the fucking insane asylum.
I think I’m among the mentally insane, or at least standing at the boarder.
I’m struggling everyday with a mental disease, called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
People are oblivious to what they can’t see, that’s something I had to realize.
So my mind weeps when I’m asleep, and when I’m conscious it cries.
That’s why I believe in what I believe in, and keep sending prayers to the skies.
Because if I didn’t believe in that higher power, we’ll probably be talking about my demise.
In my dreams I want to be freed, on my knees I pray for the best.
But this is war, and freedom only comes, when you’re found with a hole in your chest.
Because war reflects the intense gravity of death, do to its own violence…
And the eternal curse of having been to war, is bonded in deaths silence.
Genius vs. Insanity
About The Author:
The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear… Fear of the unknown, the complex and the fear of failure. But what he wants above anything else is to fear nothing at all. My greatest fear was hitting rock bottom and then I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized… And so rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life on… (FEAR) If I have gained anything by damning myself, it is that I no longer have anymore fears!! Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate… Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure… It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us… By: Kermit Gipson
PTSD – A Soldiers Story | Poem About Post Traumatic Stress Disorder