Deep in the recesses of an obesessed brain.
There is the remembrance and there to remain.
It has no purpose, it takes no aim.
It stays there silent exactly as it came.
The memory can not make itself tame.
Facts stay exactly, along with the shame.
No excuses, no reasons can stop the pain.
Not even in finding someone else to blame.
Many others may try to make it lame.
Yet, it always stays just exactly the same.
The recesses much like the tracks of a train.
Carry the event rolling from lane to lane.
Life must go on along with the strain.
So I must accept that it came to maim.
To pass this over and over drives me insane.
It's sole purpose lies and is here to bane.
Hopefully, someday in me this will inflame.
A desire to finally make it all just mundane.
Until this day comes I must refrain.
In my brain PTSD just stakes its' claim.