Art, Drums, Eating, Music, Poetry

During Desert Storm, I was struck with a crowbar to my head at a bus stop.I have a traumatic brain injury and PTSD.I came back to America to a family I vaguely remembered because of memory problems.Life for me was confusing, dark, and lonely and always worrying.My parents and Grandmother all had cancer and were in need of help,I gave that help and held all there hands when they left this world.Now after taking care of what I felt I had to do,I now have time to reflect and try to figure it all out like life,death and God.When I feel any special emotion, I wright it in a poem to help myself remember this world that I have problems with. I feel like I was born at that bus stop, because the attack is the clearest memory I have,blood and pain.Poetry and sleep doesn't come easy and what poetry I have took me twenty years to piece together, but my life may never be completely together again.I am still learning about the human animal.I hope I can fill a missing piece for someone out there.