There Is A Man Inside My Head Poem by Andrya Allen

There is a man inside my head.
I think of him when I'm in bed
or passing by a deep dark red.
I think of him in flight or fight;
he is the shadow in my night.
I do not know who he is
or if he has any kids.
I do not know where his life went
or how his many days are spent.
I do not know his struggle and strife
or how it felt to take a life.
Do you think he understood
what is right and what is good?
Inside himself with hate and greed,
feeling power when others bleed.
There is no way he could see
what his steps would do to me.
This man is real flesh and bone
yet in his heart, he is alone.
I wonder if he thinks of me
and if he has ever felt free.
I wonder if he likes grits
and in what parks he likes to sit.
For now, I'll let him stay a while.
His presence can not stop my smile.
You see, this man inside my head,
he'll be with me until I'm dead.
With time I've learned to "just be, "
when living life with PTSD.