He visited me again today. He comes once a month, like clockwork.
He’s not pleasant. He’s not someone you can see unless you look at me.
He’s the bringer of fear and worries.
When he comes to town, he’s in control, and I’m caught in his wake subject to his whims.
Sometimes he’s not alone. Sometimes he brings friends.
Memories, nightmares, visions. Emotional prisons.
Life snagged on a jagged scar on my soul.
Panic. Fear.
Trapped in the past.
Shouts. Explosions.
Death.
Solitary.
Tomorrow he’ll go, and I’ll be whole, and I’ll forget, and I’ll live on.I’m happy.
But, he’ll be back. He comes once a month, like clockwork.
