---

Bound and gagged in omnipresent fearsome darkness.
In dead silence,
I take heed of his presence.
He comes close to me,
and soon gives me a guarantee.
I can feel
he has his intentions concealed.
But to stand or kneel—no good would either yield.

‘Such a wretch you are!
(‘Such burden—)
Sneakin' in when I let my guard down.
(you tried so hard to defy.
I’ve seen too much and had enough,
(I knew that)
but am I just calling my bluff?’
(when being rebuffed.’)

PTSD, conscience-stricken somehow.
PTSD, suspicions aroused.

‘Never conform to favoured norms.’

The outrageous siren calls to me
when I am in the thick of the fight.
Slowly, I sink into lethargy.

All these poignant struggles, when I step aside
from confrontations, never hint that I'm justified.
Whenever the neutrality's maintained,
I can feel the pain and the false guilt again.

‘Another failure
confirms our defects by nature.
Mortality is torture
through the snake in the orchard.’

PTSD, contrition assumed.
PTSD, repetitions doomed.

---

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