Trauma can be created in many ways
Destruction is always an option
But not something necessary
Trauma
Processing and A Wall
The mind is rotating
In circles around itself
Lost in so many ways
Trying to find a way
To have it functional
A connection with everything
Inside myself
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Noise by Man
Life is an empty place
Full of people
Communicating their
Own trauma
Again and Again
No one hearing the other
More than when your
Scream are the loudest
In the room
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Bad Containment
High level anxiety running through
My chest
Can’t feel anything else
Quickly, quickly it goes
I am high and low
Paralyzed running in the same tim
The head feels heavy
This is my life now
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Memories
Memories drag you
Back to hell
The place you left
Many years ago
Not much is needed
To bring the trauma back
Every day a little remainder
A push, a laughter
A never ending war zone experience
Be there or be here
Eventually it breaks you
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Memories From A Broken Life
Watching the coffee drinkers
In a the chic café
The noise of people
Talking with muted
Voices
Quiet violence rushing
Into my ears
Hurting them
Memories of the terror
From earlier years awakens
Memories of torture day by day
Writing in subtle language
That do not heal the broken
Mind and heart
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Saturday From Hell
This evening she hated me deeply
She had made the choice
To have a really bad day
Because I was not there
They stayed at home all day
Because of the rain and the total inability
To take the bus
Maybe I deserved it
Defining me as a small man
Deserving to die in a snowpack
She spat on me while my daughter
Who sat in my lap
No inhibitions at all
How bad I was
I needed psychiatric help
And then as always
Like a hand that turned
She was so sad, her colleague
Had not done enough
I put my daughter to sleep
Waiting for the next act
Of the bipolar drama
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The Best way to Make It Worse
This is a bad rotten day
Full of turmoil and
Wrong conclusions
Re-enacting past
Trauma in
Order to transfer them
To the next generation
I fall short
I know
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My Family
They will tell you that you are sick
Aggressive, crazy not to be trusted
They send you to the doctor
The family making their projection on the boy
Something is wrong with him
And the world out there is so dangerous
Let´s keep him calm
You are wrong, amphetamine will make you a good boy
You are bad because you are a boy
We despise you for what you are
We will make you sick
And that is good
We do not take any care
We do not want to see
We are blind, pretending
We reward everyone that pretends
We hate and smile
When we kill you
It will be for your own best
And we will mourn
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