There comes a point, Inflection irrelevant
Circumstances are here, Flare with the current.

That lesson is hard, but now I realize
Things floating above, I just close my eyes.

Those who hurt me, They left a scar

Many years later, Still pain in my heart

The acts in which, I was hurt

I’m left now, As part of the dirt.

Things that hurt me, Long since have passed

Negative shadows, That’s what lasts.

Now my issues, Loom like a pot rack

When one comes down, I get smacked.

It’s the symptom, Comes swinging right down

I must catch it, Or hit the ground.

So, I deal with a pot, Laced with depression and PTSD

Suffer a meltdown, With some anxiety.

Last time I broke down, A week Sunday past

Better I’m now, Since that attack.