In a logjam of memories, the PTSD declares a victory
It stands without reason, and also with power, viciously
If our past refuses to fade away or be a piece of history
The future is stalled, in the streams of time and misery
Intrusive thoughts, crushing hope, the mind is a mystery
And now I've no way to escape the prison cell I live in
No way to escape the pain I caused, to others, or to me
Without a path forward for me to ever be redeemed
