War Path Poem by Elizabeth Tyease Collins

Veins pulsating violently
was that moment meant to last?
hanging close edge by a thread while
trying to keep the voices from inviting
sad dreams, nostalgic nightmares recurring,
breaths quickening of bodies touching, a hand raised
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 promises,
can't seem to realize that inside your head you're a walking
timebomb.
The world whirls around and you feel it shake and crumble,
you see the hands all grasp 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?