Death is a mercy, sometimes.

I wrote this after watching a programme which was about a family but PTSD features heavily and this is what came out!

He was a speaker with animals

before the destruction

Feeding them, knowing their ways

Before the fodder was him.

Sent underground to set traps

For an unwitting enemy

A generals mind in foot soldiers body

The damning combination.

A world destroyed a mind fragmented

By bangs, shells, sounds, screams

Some are his own

When he wakes from the sleep

That he tries never to have

Nightmares worse than any day can conjure

He doesn’t speak of what happened

The words are not yet invented

Distractions, diversions, plans

All to keep his mind from being idle

So the torture stays away

He is there but not there

A spectre in his own life

This living breathing moving ghost

Who everyone knows

Yet nobody understands he’s locked in

Always in the terror of then

The time he cannot speak of

He is voiceless and it’s all there

Waiting to explode

At the back of his mind is a thought

Humming louder daily

Death is a mercy, sometimes.

Ailsa
©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2019

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Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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