PTSD's grip

In the depths of darkness, nightmares arise,
Intrusive thoughts, like shadows, mesmerize.
PTSD's grip, relentless and unkind,
A haunting presence that consumes the mind.

Avoidance becomes a shield, a fragile defense,
To shield the heart from pain, to build a pretense.
But in the silence, memories fade away,
Lost fragments of a life, where colors once did play.

Negative thoughts, like poison, seep within,
Whispering doubts, fueling a constant din.
Self-isolation, a lonely refuge sought,
To hide from the world, where solace is sought.

Anger and irritability, a tempest's wrath,
A storm within, leaving a treacherous path.
The simplest of triggers ignite a flame,
A battle waged within, a soul in pain.

Loss of interest, passions once held dear,
Now distant echoes, fading, unclear.
The world becomes a canvas, devoid of hue,
As joy and purpose seem to bid adieu.

But amidst the chaos, a spirit remains,
A flicker of strength, a will that sustains.
For though the darkness may try to consume,
There's a resilience within, a light to bloom.