PTSD Poem

There’s bullets overseas.

There’s bullets in American streets.

Bullets from Police.

Bullets from DV (“domestic” violence), IPV (intimate partner violence).

Bullets leave wounds in our bodies, wounds in our minds.

We all share the same reward;

PTSD for you, PTSD for me.

The soldier, the mother, the police officer, students and principal.

Where is the awareness and help?

PTSD for you, PTSD for me.

Some wounds you will never see.

Police with PTSD?

Hand them more guns to, “Stop the Violence”.

Where is the awareness and acknowledgment?

For the woman beaten worse than a soldier of war?

Her war she fights alone, in her own home.

No battle buddies to save her.

Where is the awareness, outrage and help?

Where is the outrage and help?

For the children in our American streets carrying more shrapnel in their bodies than most soldiers who were sent to war.

Where is the mental health help for these unseen people with PTSD?

Has anyone ever heard that PTSD is treatable?

You can only treat and cure what you know you have.

Raising awareness helps raise fairness that PTSD affects you, PTSD affects me.

PTSD effects many more populations than the media lets us see.

Many Americans are “soldiers” without helmets, metals, and never signed on the dotted line.

Many Americans hold PTSD symptoms to themselves.

Yet their inner dysfunction and unhealed trauma, leaks like a gushing wound onto society.

Their inner anger and depression is their bodies warning, in hopes they will notice, get help and stop the mental bleeding.

You can’t notice it, if you aren’t aware that PTSD can be caused by many more things than is popularized.

There is no shame in asking for help.

There is healing and hope from all trauma.

PTSD healing for you, PTSD healing for me.

Let this replace all the bullets we see.

PTSD healing for you, PTSD healing for me.