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I am what I am, or am I?

What do you think people what do you see
What do you think when you look at me
A miserable old man deemed not very wise
Uncertain of habit with faraway eyes.

I am what I am but not what I was
The GP's say it's me, or is it ME
Now they say it's PTSD
But that's not me nor who I was.

I worked so hard to become what I was
And I was proud to be what I became
But something was given to take it away
and my image now is not who I was.

It started with a virus or was it ME
And at BMH the ECG went wonky
They couldn't decide at QEMH
So the tabs and the jabs took the strain.

When the "Gulf" came along and I'd slept for an age
My hibernation I was told was over
These jabs and tabs will just do the trick
Now it's time to go and pack up your kit.

Whatever I took with such blind faith
I assumed it was given to help
But the cocktail of drugs that most of us took
Has left me unable to cope.

I get lost in a room that's blank and so bare
I get lost in myself in a crowd
I lose myself in a thousand yard stare
And get lost in memories so rare.

Although I get lost I still need to hide
And my bed is the best place I know
But sometimes oblivion is all that I need
And I find that in a bottomless glass.

I've heard it's a syndrome but what do I know
And my GP a conspiracy she calls it
Our gov't has told us it doesn't exist
So how dare I suggest that it does.

This whole body is mine and I know how I feel
So why do they tell me I'm wrong
I can't possibly have so much wrong with me
So why am I wasting their time.

I'm fobbed of with psychologists and psychiatrists et al
but my pain is below my brain
So it's back to my GP's what more could I do
But top up my notes with more claims.

To get recognition and try to define
That which I'm told is not there
They want me to believe that I'm not all there
So where am I will someone please help.

To cover all symptoms and bases we're told
That Syndrome as an umbrella term is used
So now our gov't has a cover to hide under
All the problems that we have become.

Now the DWP have entered the fray
Under the brolly they peek and they say
Your DLA we now cannot pay
'Cause your pains are not as you say.

I know that others are in the same boat
And travelling down the same road
This "syndrome" we have that doesn't exist
What are we to do with ourselves.

So where do I stand what can I do now
Is this the end of my road
I don't want to go on fighting this cause
'Cause I'm tired of hitting brick walls.


What do you think people what do you see
What are you thinking when you look at me
A miserable old man deemed not very wise
Uncertain of habit with faraway eyes.

Is that what you're thinking is that what you see
Then open your eyes you're not looking at me.

Compiled by :
Maj [Ret'd] AJ Battley MBE

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