Only very rare things truly beautify with time.

She is a beautifully colored piece of broken beach glass

Made smooth by the work of her own hands

A cruel world only sees her tarnished by the weather and waves of time

They miss what I see; the beauty of how she’s put herself together

The powerful soul inside her made her whole again

She glistens brightly in the warm sunlight among the regular stones on the beach

For all the world to observe in awe of her grand beauty

is a writer focusing on helping readers feel the experience of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms, rather than just reading about them.

How couldn’t I have known?

Photo Credit:

You knew the moment we met

I, I was not so sure

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been searching for you for so long,” were your first words to me

My heartbeat fluttered

Our souls had already entangled themselves

Dancing widely to the song of love

Overwhelmed by the familiarity of you

A feeling unlike anything I’ve ever experienced

Then I knew

This was not just ‘love at first sight’

“Yes. Here I am,” I answered you.

is a writer focusing on helping readers feel the experience of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms, rather than just reading about them.

PTSD is a normal response to a deeply shocking and extraordinarily abnormal situation.

Photo Credit:— Unsplash

***Content Warning — Graphic reference to violence and death.

I’m Sick of…

Pretending I’m “ok.”

Yelling at myself in the mirror

Feeling down

Being lonely

Isolating

Losing every relationship

Having a broken heart

Not being held

Feeling rejected

People avoiding me

Randomly crying

Being easily angered

Bursting into a rage…

I know this will tear me to pieces.

Photo Credit:

Through closed eyes

Colors across the panorama

Demons

Floating through the darkness

Waiting to strike

Soul-wracking fears

Whispers turn to screams

Drown out by the rattling guns

Ricocheting and echoing inside my head

Vibrations shake me to my core

Timelessly menacing

The nuance of daily and nightly horrors

is a writer focusing on helping readers feel the experience of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms, rather than just reading about them.

A poem in free verse about cutting

Photo Credit: https://twitter.com/archillect
Photo Credit: Archillect

Demons in the night.

Cut… Watch it drip.

I see their faces.

Cut… Watch it drip.

I hear their screams.

Cut… Watch it drip.

I see them all.

Cut… Watch it drip.

They’re always the same.

Cut… Watch it drip.

Night after night.

Cut… Watch it drip.

I’m afraid to close my eyes.

Cut… Watch it drip.

I need relief.

Cut… Watch it drip.

Anything to ease the pain.

Cut… Watch it drip.

One more time should do it.

Cut… Watch it drip.

I’m exhausted.

When will this pain ever end?

is a writer focusing on helping readers feel the experience of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms, rather than just reading about them.

Don’t take it personally if I check out in the middle of our conversation.

Photo credit: Pinterest

We were having coffee at my favorite coffee shop on a sunny August morning. Listening to her voice was riveting and mesmerizing. Everything in my world was peaceful. However, in an instant, that quickly changed, and the peace was obliterated by the horrifying experience of another flashback.

At the time…

We have always been

Photo Credit: Elena Mozhvilo — Unsplash

I believe there is something eternal about us
An infinite connection throughout time
Before our galaxy began to form
Before the sun warmed the land
And before the seas splashed onto the sandy beaches
I know, there have always been remnants of you and me

is a writer focusing on helping readers feel the experience of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms, rather than just reading about them.

Chris Patton

Retired State Trooper. I share my journey with PTSD. I write from the perspective of what it's like to experience flashbacks & other symptoms of PTSD.

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