A poem for PTSD

To the editor:

You don’t understand me.

You haven’t been where I have been.

Some say I’m crazy, maybe I am.

Some say I’m mean, some say I’m sad.

I think they’re all right.

I have PTSD!

What’s that you say? I’ll tell you.

That’s watching my friend … No, my brother blown away.

That means taking 1, 10, 100 lives today.

It’s nightmares that never go away.

It’s a family that wants me to stay and a fear of what will happen, so I pray.

It is sadness and guilt that I’m standing here, instead of those who have perished.

For those brave men and women, your life you should cherish!

I hear too many say life is too hard, I just worked 40 hours and still have to mow the yard.

But what does that compare to sleepless nights and coming home marred.

So, when you go to bed tonight, thank God for our troops who fight for that right.

Because this crazy, sad shell of a man, has PTSD, and now you know what that means!

Dedicated to the men and women of the Armed Forces.

Raquel J. Reinhart