Post traumatic concussion syndrome
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Each breath brings about A life enslaved in shadows Long days of one And time in scattered pieces Afternoons hunched over
You see, he was once a man; Whole. He was a body and a soul; But his soul seems to have left him And only the shell remains. The music of war is all he hears.
My Haven that once used to be, is no longer.The once familiar place, has vanished.Locks and keys with no match,A maze filled with no exits, no entrances, no answers.
The morning came And everything was the same, except it wasn’t. You hear voices But you don’t know what they’re saying. Everything you once knew before Is lost like your football t-shirt from middle school.
Back and forth I go, Swinging to and fro, As the world spins below, For a reason I do not know. Pumping my legs and gaining height. Thinking that the spinning would stop and hoping that it might.