This is my rifle This is my gun
There are many like it but this one is mine
I was trained to use my weapon without consideration for my mind PTSD became I-E-D that affected my whole family Especially When symptoms are not visible The solution is not simple I cannot erase the things I have seen The things I have heard Nor create a normal life for myself afterward I am afraid of my rifle I am afraid of my gun The nightmares that chase me From them I can't run And I tried My past caught up with me on the night that I died A wound self-inflicted to kill the memories inside To kill the demons that chased me Is that suicide? The mind is hidden deep within the confines of the soul And when disturbed, the consciousness can spiral out of control Many war vets awake in cold sweats Perceptions blurred, with a reality of regret Battle scars will never fade The hand of cards that were dealt were already played The mind is a terrible thing to waste Some people lose themselves in the brain's grey space Fear becomes the rifle Hopelessness becomes the gun And it's unfortunate that this solider was unable to run
By: Paul Roberts
He suffered in silence
Because he thought that
Even the slightest admission
Would prove him weak in our eyes
But his silence was boisterous
It echoed on high and
Traveled with the speed of sound
Like the thunderous roar from and IED
That sends a hum v toppling over
And soldiers flying without wings
As their limbs are being
Torn from their core
Or that whistling ringing sound
After the explosion of a grenade
Leaves survivors sifting through
Rubble for casualties
Or what feels like the Earth quaking
When helicopter meets soil
And there are no parachutes left floating in the sky
Or the constant guilt and questioning
Why them? Why not him?
Honorary discharge
But his mind was still at war
Operation Freedom
But his spirit was still imprisoned
Fighting off his demons
With only her to hold him through the night
Diagnosis post traumatic
Meds prescribed but not taken
Because they didn't allow him
To be all that he could be anymore
Everyone thought that he appeared normal
They didn't see it coming
But no one saw the world through his eyes
Flashes of death and destruction
That he was haunted by
Now she suffers in silence
Because constant discussion
Only has her mind running
Over and over again
Like a record that's stuck
Like a record that's stuck
And she hears herself yelling out
Running towards him
As he fell back in slow motion
After having pulled the trigger on a firearm
That with his condition
He was not allowed to have
Administering CPR
While blood flowed out his ears and nose
As his eyes began to swell
She heard a heartbeat
EMTs heard a heartbeat
And then it was gone
No exit wound found
As the blood pooled around his head
Almost like a cushion
Cradling him in his slumber
Her family wonders why he chose her
Angry that he took away her innocence
Her feeling of safety
How could she allow herself
To be put in such danger
Experiencing depression and
Having nightmares that
He isn't around to hold her for
Even the dog doesn't bark anymore
He left no note to explain
His desire to make her the recipient
of such trauma
An army of one
He felt like an army of one
Because the battle with this disorder
Was waged on him
Within him
The paperwork said he was
Not allowed to have a firearm
Yet somehow he was able
To remove his stress by
Simply pulling the trigger
And now like un-removable pieces of shrapnel
PTSD is embedded in her
So I ask you
Who dropped the ball on this one
Who didn't follow up or follow through
Who is responsible for this
Cycle of destruction that keeps repeating itself
It keeps repeating itself
By Alicia N. Smartt
*For a daughter who lost a love and a love who took his life
