Desolate Deception

The result of a lonely, miserable life is comparable to the effects of post traumatic stress disorder in soldiers who cannot enjoy life after war.

Trembling at the sound of a trigger.
Poor soldier, putting up with the after effects of war.
At the end of the week, this is what I feel, and nothing more.
Three years later, and I wonder why joy doesn't hit me like normal people anymore.

Not only has this cost me my social life,
But, also, enjoying a single moment feels like a snake's venomous bite.
“It's a trap,” my brain tries to tell me.
If I enjoy it one bit, my heart will start to bleed.

But why?
Why can't I find the courage to go outside?
Instead, I decide to hide from disappointment’s ride.
Because once it picks you up,
It's impossible to recover from your body's desire to smuggle.

Taking in prescribed happiness does not make it hurt any less.
I need to wake up and realize the only thing controlling me is aggress.
“Stop yelling and stop fighting.” I need to ignore my desire to aggress.
Although not at war, my body is reacting like one of post traumatic stress.

-S.I.A.

Author's Note

What do you think of my writing? Please feel free to review and rate it. I hope you like it.