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Dead Behind The Eyes:A dedication to those with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the special people who work with them to find colour and life again.
My soul is hollow, vacant, there is nothing inside. Behind the warm hazel and striking brown intensity, the mirror of my eyes, There is nothing. A grey death, a barren land, A slight wish for someone to hold my hand. I drive gently through the street, Observe how the sun, silently illuminates. The sky projecting…
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My Joy, My Sad
“Roses are red, violets are blue, It don’t always be like that, but sometimes it do”. It’s been relentless for so long I’d say this is as bad as it gets. Most days an exercise in survival. It started with depression at age 15 and a Bipolar Diagnosis at 21, Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder…
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Never Been Heard 