In the shadowy trenches of a mind once bright, Where memories fight a never ending plight, I lay in silence, a weary soul's lament, A dance with darkness, a battle without bent. The war is over, the battles are through, Yet here I am, in a war zone anew. My bed, a battleground, my sleep, a lie, Where whispers of the night pierce through the sky. Combat PTSD, a ghostly sentinel, Guarding my thoughts, a tale to tell, Of sights unseen, of sounds unheard, Of moments frozen, in a heartless word. Insomnia, the cloak that wraps me tight, In a prison of the darkest night, Her whispers taunt, her embrace a snare, A silent scream, a desolate prayer. And then the lucid night terrors come, To haunt my slumber, a fiery sum. Where dreams are bullets and fears take flight, In the theater of the damned, where I fight. The faces morph, the scenes intertwine, With reality's edge, forever fine, I'm back in hell, the battle's rage, Where every breath is a silent wage. My eyes wide open, yet I cannot move, A marionette in a macabre groove, The shadows play, the demons jest, While my soul is put through a grueling test. I am the soldier, I am the war, The battleground is where I've been before. But now the fight is not out there in the light, It's here in the dark, where fear takes flight. Each dawn is a victory, a moment to hold, A brief reprieve, a story untold, But as nightfall descends, the battle is drawn, I'll fight till the end, till the break of dawn. For I am not lost, though I may stray, In the labyrinth of the mind's decay, I'll find my peace, in the quietude, Where the warrior's heart is understood. The nights are long, the days are hard, But in the shadows, I'll make my stand, With every breath, every tear I shed, I'll conquer the fears that lie in bed. For this is the fight that's truly mine, Where valor is not measured by time, And though the scars may never fade, I'll rise from the ashes, unafraid. The dawn will come, it always does, And with it, a chance to live because, In the throes of darkness, I've found my light, A beacon of hope, a warrior's might. Life with PTSD, insomnia's grip, And lucid terrors that never quit, Is a journey fraught with pain and fear, But in the silence, I find my cheer. I am the storm, the warrior's son, The one who fights, the battle never won, But in the echoes of each scream, I am the dawn, the sun's esteemed. So let the night come with all its might, For I am ready to continue the fight, Against the demons that plague my sleep, I am the guardian, the watch I'll keep.