Truths of a Fallen Soul
Unfortunate truths are what pulls at my soul;
I feel I have no where else to go;
I turn to rhymes and lyrics for show, but when it's all said and done....
I welcome you to the wrong side of my gun.
Peace, Love and Hate will always be the World's most common debate.
Comments
I wasn’t long in being diagnosed, due to me climbing over my doctor’s desk & picking him up by his throat and dangling him off the floor. He had said that I was a hypochondriac and he said something like, “Get a grip.”
I was terrified of sleep because of the night terrors. I’d sweat & shake & blackout. For no reason at all I’d either develop uncontrolled panic or overwhelming rage.
When I realised what I was doing to the doctor, I asked him if he wanted to change his opinion. He couldn’t speak & his eyes were popping out. But just a little.
He did rather enthusiastically nod his agreement that he had in fact reached an alternative opinion.
He had focused his attention on my feelings only partly because the threat of imminent death does tend to do that; but also because I only had the use of one leg. And it requires a lot of adrenaline pumping through veins to enable a man who has the last spent six months wheelchair bound to lift his own weight with the use of only one leg.
I was lucky.
I already had my orders for discharge from Walter Reed & the Army. After the doctor wrote out a new diagnosis, I initiated a strategic retrograde manoeuvre before the doctor could get himself together & find an MP.
I think I shared out my trauma. But again, just a little.
I went straight to the VA & was fortunate in getting some very emphatic people to listen to me.
Nonetheless, I still have anger issues. Although I hardly ever strangle anyone, anymore.
I was several years in counselling and I’m still on meds; but it’s not a bad ol’ time I’m having now.
I was lucky.