Serving my sentence

I can fight the
nightmares.
I can wake up
screaming
and covince myself it’s
over.

But how the hell do you get over
When you to come
face-to-face
with the persn who made you
afraid
of your own
existence?


He got parole.

I got PTSD.
Nightmares.
Flashbacks.
Scars.
A relapse.


He gets to be just anoher
man
standing in a gas
station.

Seeing his face
The pain
It needed to
Go somewhere

The justic
System
Didn’t punish him
Enough
But
I’ve punished myself
Maybe not enough
For the crime I didn’t
Commit