War Path Poem by Elizabeth Tyease Collins

Veins pulsating violently
was this moment meant to last?
Hanging close on edge by a thread while
trying to keep sane and inviting in the sad dreams,
nostalgic nightmares reoccurring
breaths quickening of bodies touching hands raising to strike the unforbidden
letting isolation destroy the world that you
called yours,
beating yourself up to feel alive,
lying to keep your blood from boiling down,
grinning at the demons and happy to make it out alive...

You hold hands with the people that you love most
yet you can't seem to own up to the promises,
can't seem to realize that inside your head you're a walking timebomb.
The world whirls around and you feel it shake, crumble, have felt all the hands grab out to you.
You see the wounded ones that could never learn how to love
to the hearts that will never see the time of day that pull you closer,
and with the war going on in your head can you really consider yourself okay?
Can you call for help when you're left to help others?