P. t. s. d.

Post me away to a place others will believe. 

Traumatic experience that no one understands, unless they witness.

Or suffer.

Allergic reactions to man  made brightness, that x rays right though you. 

The vanquish vesting day. 

Stress deteriorated the bones, twice the age of the numbers of age. 

Disorder is everywhere and the non are overloaded so shan't care. 

Find it more than annoying that, again my screaming goes unheard and not believed. 

The cover up of the beaten and broken, the empty pockets of the outspoken, will power fought to survive. 

Only to find out the damage done by evil doings and kinky actions has taken 40 years away.

a lot closer to the last nail in the coffin. 

They say post, because the traumatic experience is no longer happening. 

But for me it never stopped. 

For the neglect and abuse is main stream now. 

 Departments want to hear about the unfair, for there kicks, and to kick you with, but offer nothing without payment you do not want to give. 

That is the system. 

Please everyone, wake up and prevent the endless loop of misery. 

There are a lot that simply cannot hold on. 

And it was my mission, to convince, merrily merrily , life is a simulated dream.