PTSD 2

Lord I’m afraid of the man

Who comes to my house

With a knife to drive into

My intestines with great

Force and indifference

I fear the heathen with

The pistol who waits for

Me in the driveway and

Follows me around town

As I run my errands

Oblivious to his presence

So protect me oh Lord

From the bad men who

Run the want to dissect

The fleshy parts of my

Body and dismember me

In my sleep while

Laughing and jabbing

each other in the ribs

Like it’s all a joke

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