My Buddy Jimmy

My buddy Jimmy was trained to kill

Today has that same mindset still

I've been the subject of his wrath

Don't want to go down that path

My job was to save lives

My mission was who survives

I even cared for both sides

Where compassion and revenge collides

Jimmy and I both have PTSD

Without many differences I can see

This disease will affect us all

No matter what trauma we recall

Every Breath I Took

I may not remember what I did yesterday

And I may not remember some words that I say

I may not remember your name

And I may not remember who won the big game

But almost fifty years after the war

I remember every wound I cared for

I remember every leaf I shook

I remember every breath I took

I guess the war impressed my young mind

There are some memories I can't leave behind

It May Have Been Purpose

I thought I had been seeking

Camaraderie for forty five years

I searched for it in churches, clubs

Organizations and careers

It may not have been

Camaraderie I am learning

But instead it may have been

Purpose I was yearning

Please Don't Ask Me Why

There are some words you shouldn't say

Like...are you OK?

Don't ask what's wrong

If you want us to get along

Don't ask why I sit here

When I drink my beer

If I don't watch the news

I could have a short fuse

If I react and lash out

Don't ask what I'm angry about

Any second I could start to cry
Please don't ask me why

Why It's Called POST

During the war I could sleep anywhere

Today, a full nights rest is rare

Fifty years ago I slept leaned up on a tree
I slept through rain, mosquitoes and artillery

I slept through the hot scorching sun
I think I even slept while on the run

I have slept at noon
And I have slept through a typhoon

But today is a different story
I have nightmares that are gory

I have insomnia with a roof over my head
Tucked into my own warm bed

I have a woman next to me who is a dear
But I still can't sleep for all of this fear

This must be why it's called POST Disorder
My reality sure is out of order