
Stress Disorder (PTSD)
Bullets again tonight
gun powdered air tonight
makes the bars hold their
screws a little tighter the
doors check on their locks
the babies hide under beds
or in tubs mothers reattach umbilical cords
calling to reconfirm life
My window never ducks or
covers my fingers twitch yet
never abandon my laptop I
continue to write I no longer
fear my eyes do not turn quick
to look or peer out to see who
are what is again dying my ears
no longer shaken by the ritual
of screams nor the culture of
last breaths
I have grown accustom to the casualties . . .
The bodies scattered
© Demitri Tyler
Excerpt from the book âMeasuring For Balanceâ
Visit Author Page At:
http://www.ctupublishinggroup.com/demitri-tyler.html
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