Jigsaw - a poem about childhood abuse, war, PTSD, depression and addiction

Jigsaw

The little boy inside, still trapped in violence,

Memories dissolved like salt in his tears.

Heavy reminders carved deep in his silence,

Enduring the suffering through all his years.

Confusion reigns in his numb, clouded brain,

Shock and awe, methodical yet raw.

Fists of fury dealt in drunken rage,

Dusty white lines tighten the jaw.

Like a broken mirror was his jigsaw mind,

The wolf still howls its endless coward cry.

All eyes were open, no one was blind,

The desperate chase stayed buried inside.

Empty bottles gathered like ghosts in the corner,

Sleepless nights laid foundations of fear,

Trapping misery in mortar that screams ever louder

He endured the madness year after year.

Never deserved were the guilt and the shame,

Nor the deception and lies on a future unwritten.

No more suffering in silence, no fault, no blame

Unspoken anxiety of being snakebitten.

Redemption for himself was earned, not given,

One bottle too many, yet one hundred not enough.

Learning respect for oneself, a lesson delivered

He can now be vulnerable but emotionally tough.

The dusty white lines blew like ash in the wind,

Brothers in arms were the blood he was worth.

Jigsaw complete, but the wolf shows his grin,

The little boy smiles - learning lessons with less hurt.