PTSD Survivor Poetry: It’s Raining Again

In celebration of National Poetry Month, this week’s PTSD poem comes from …Martin Lauri. Martin has published a book of powerful poems entitled “Bipolar Soldier.”   The Bipolar Soldier’ is a true story of just one man with a diagnosis of Bipolar disorder, and the life that caused it. This short book is a mixed collection of verse written by Martin Lauri over just ten days. It gives some stark insight into the life and mind of a person with Bipolar Disorder. It is also the prelude to his debut novel of the same name, which he is compiling, on good days. Martin Lauri is the Bipolar Soldier.

Its Raining Again

Guest Post by: Martin Lauri

It’s raining again outside today. Inclement, is how bad I feel. Gloomy and sad, hopeless and lost, The pain inside feels so real.

I tried to be helpful, Oh God how I tried. And then in an instant You just pass by my side. You undermine every little thing that I do, Sometimes I breath such hatred for you.

I hate all the shouting it hurts so bad, I hate all the silence it drives me mad. I thought in an instant about a train Then I’d be gone,no more pain.

I thought about ending it, letters too About the kind of things I’d say to you. On the day that I left you And my children so sad, To hell with this life I’m off cause I’m mad.

I wasn’t always so sad, so lonely, not there. Sometimes I hate it, not a soul to care. I can hardly see my words, I write through the glaze, As my eyes fill up, and its all just a haze.

My tablets they’re killing me, Slowly and sure. They try to fool you, A magical cure. They say they work wonders, That mad folk can’t see. There just tranquilizers They anesthetize me.

They take all your will, and life and soul. In this bottomless pit, they fill no hole. They just make you drowsy, to cause no harm. To keep you in check, cause no alarm.

Therapy, tablets, support workers, shrinks, The hole system for nutters, it really just stinks. Token visits, and care plans, oh please spare me your time. I’ll be good take the tablets, Now get lost, I’m fine.

The system that’s here, this mental health trust. I depend on to stay or go if I must. They wouldn’t notice if one sad case, were no more. As he departed this world, through the nutters back door.

But for my children, for me, and so that you too, can learn. I don’t ask for sympathy, or a penny to earn. All that I ask, if, one day I’m not there. Is that you treat us with love, and just show you care.

Forget all your potions, your poisons you give We just want our life back, We just want to live.

I don’t want to leave yet, I don’t want to go. Just treat me like I once treated people I know.

Just treat us as equals, Please be gentle and still. Then the sun might come out As I’m sure that it will.

About the author: Martin Lauri is an author and soldier who suffers from Bipolar Disorder. You can visit his website to learn more.

 

 

 
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