Tricks & Mirrors- My Magic In My Mind, a poem of Living w/ PTSD by Drem

It’s 7:30Am. I haven’t slept. I’m supposed to go to a doctor’s appointment today. I’m not going. I’m not going outside, again. I don’t want any bad news. Not scheduling my chemo. Eff it all.

I tried doing different things to bring me comfort and make me less anxious. None of them worked. I tried relaxing music and I bought a new sweater online. I ended up waking up my cat because my typing was too loud and now he’s mad and went downstairs. I’m sorry kitty ):

My body hurts. You might be sick of me complaining about it. I’m not complaining. I’m just explaining my current state. And, I find through comments and personal emails by you who listen to my words, that in fact me expressing my chronic pain brings you comfort because it makes you feel less alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I repeat, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. There’s a young woman who goes by Drem on the East Coast of the United States currently feeling the way you do. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I live with chronic pain too. I am giving you a big virtual hug right now. /hug.

I think the below poem is fairly self explanatory. It was loads of fun to write, and I especially adore the ending. I wrote it at a tumultuously time in my life. But with a sense of peace. No anger, even though it touches on a subject I don’t like talking about. You can see in the tags. There is an unusual one there that I never even use because I still feel the shame. I think you know what I mean.


Let me know you’re listening. I am my words. Let me know you see me.

Tricks & Mirrors- My Magic In My Mind, a poem by Drem

June 3, 2015

“My subconscious

becomes reality.

All I see

when I sleep,

all I relive

are the things

that bring me pain

and hurt me.



the parts of my life story,

the stuff I suppress

to get through the stress

of day to day monotonous



When I sleep,

if I do,

ever do,

what I don’t want there

is there

behind my eyes

in my head.


It’s waiting.

Different scenarios,

twisted pictures in broken frames,

sitting there

while my life movies play

of conversations I wish I could be having

with the one I’ve fallen for

who doesn’t want me.

Torturous heartbreak that makes me feel

like an adolescent

all again and again.


Then there are the flashbacks

of times I wish

I screamed for help

instead of cried silently,

in the shadows,


of the last man who controlled me.

I wish I fought back.


I’m offered do-overs

of this and that,

parts of my past.

But there are no do-overs!

In real life, no!

There is only what has been done

when my eyes were open,

or when my eyes

were too drugged to be open.

But it all happened,

I know.

That happened.

And it’s real.

And it brings me shame many women feel

even though we’re told we shouldn’t feel.


I just never want to think about it.

And a lot of the other stuff

I bottle up


and swallow whole,

glass and all

down and down it goes.

And it sits

in my stomach

as I digest the indigestible.


Sometimes I can’t help

but spit some of it up.

It’s just stomach reflexes,

because his taste is in my mouth.

I spit it up

in puke and ink

and tears

it smears

on the carpet

seeping all the way through

to the cement.


I wish I just didn’t dream.

It’s all tricks by mirrors and magic

and the mind.

And, it’s all

against me.”

16 thoughts on “Tricks & Mirrors- My Magic In My Mind, a poem of Living w/ PTSD by Drem

  1. This one really moved me. And make me cry just a little bit. There is much power in your words and the way you weave them into a poem.

    I am hoping for you that everything does get better and you do get the chance to do what you need to to get better.

    Paper And Pen

    Liked by 1 person

      1. My mom asked if you exist just to like my comments. I’m not kidding. I laughed. You jumped on the Star Wars thing. Which, I don’t blame you for. It’s Star Wars.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Your poem left me feeling a bit gutted. Believe it or not, I mean this as a compliment. I have never and probably will never go through anything that’s even remotely like what you’ve gone through, and yet reading your words made me feel like I was there. I think “evocative” is the word I’m fumbling for here…

    Liked by 1 person

      1. No apology needed. It should make the reader feel that way. It’s through art that we learn to put ourselves in other people’s shoes and, as a consequence, we hopefully learn to treat people like people rather than objects in the way of attaining whatever we arbitrarily deem success. In short, your poem reminds me that we’re all human.

        Liked by 1 person

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