Verse 1
My body’s in fight or flight,
Even when my mind says I’m fine tonight.
DNA rewired by the things I’ve seen,
They called me “Trauma Queen” on a hospital sheet.
You don’t see the scars, you just see the car,
Sayin’, “What could you even be sad about?”
But you don’t know the nights that I bled,
Flatlined four times, awake on the edge.
Chorus
You say control it with my mind—
But my body’s screaming every time.
Triggers hidden in a sound, in a color, in a street,
And you think it’s that easy just to breathe?
PTSD—yeah, it lives in me,
Every cell, every bone, every memory.
Don’t ask me what I’ve got to be sad about,
You want the truth? Then I’ll spell it out.
This pain, this fight, it’s my history—
PTSD, it’s the pulse in me.
Verse 2
Missed sixth grade, sickness stole my youth,
Months went by until the doctors found the proof.
Boat accident—blood in the tide,
They prepped to take my leg, I never closed my eyes.
Watched a baby die in her mama’s embrace,
Brother overdosed, house was a war place.
Don’t tell me to smile when I’ve lived through war,
Every scar you can’t see is another I bore.
Chorus
You say control it with my mind—
But my brain is fractured, re-designed.
Every tick, every loop, every sleepless night,
Every trigger pulls me back to fight.
PTSD—yeah, it lives in me,
Every cell, every bone, every memory.
Don’t ask me what I’ve got to be sad about,
You want the truth? Then I’ll scream it out.
This pain, this fight, it’s my history—
PTSD, it’s the pulse in me.
Verse 3
Watched friends slip away, one took his own life,
Another died young while I clung to the fight.
Narcissistic abuse left me battered and used,
Break-ins, death threats, my brother I feared to lose.
Some nights I prayed for my pain to end,
But somehow kept breathing again and again.
Pulled dogs from the fights, trying to save their lives,
Every rescue became another goodbye.
Bridge
You see the smile, but you don’t see the weight,
You see the house, but you don’t see the cage.
Professional at pushing through,
But inside I’m breaking in front of you.
It’s not weakness, it’s survival,
Every day’s a trial,
And if you wore my skin,
You’d stop asking why.
Final Chorus
PTSD—yeah, it lives in me,
Not a phase, not a choice, it’s my legacy.
Don’t ask me what I’ve got to be sad about,
If you knew the half, you’d never doubt.
This pain, this fight, it’s my history—
PTSD, it’s the pulse in me.
PTSD… it beats in me.
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