S t o r i e s
buried, decaying
in cranial folds—festering
rotted memories chiseling away at
cavernous voids. Coils of pain
spinning in the chasm
of darkness,
w h i p p e d
around like glass shards
in violent tornadic
w i n d s.
Micro
glimpses
of light
snuffed out by
an endless frigid winter.
Metallic sheets of reflection deflecting
reality. Chasing temporary
relief, numbness
calms the
s t o r m,
quieting
the
past,
if
only
for
a
m o m e n t.
No
thought.
No
pain.
Brief.
Temporary
hush
s t a g g e r s
away
dissolving
the escape. Gaping
endless spaces widen where
warmth does not exist, lurching back into
the harsh continuance of existence.
Slowly, the cycles of destruction
engraved by reels of
m e m o r i e s—
repertoires
dished up by
patterns of pain begin
their whisper, quickly rising decibels
of torment. Deafening
recollections
re-build
as the
seconds pass.
Each tick of the clock an
eternity, evoking the craving for another
sledgehammer. Inner voices
howl, reverberating off
the cold skeletal
walls—
resonating up the vertical
exposures of mental cliffs. Jagged
edges, ripping to shreds in
a never-ending
free fall.
No
b o t t o m.
No swift death. Just
thrashing into the void. Gravity
sucking into the endless
black hole. Withering
away moment
by moment
into
the
cold
desolate
night
of
the
mind.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
*******************************************************
I can't force you to
open the parachute
I harnessed around you—
only you can choose
to pull the ripcord. I will
quietly sit here in your
rifts—reaching my
arms out to you,
waiting for you to
reach back. I will
pour out my tears
gathering waters of
my eyes into a gentle
lake, a calm place for
you to float. I will shower
you with petals, drenching
you with the softness of life,
trusting you'll see the small
gifts of beauty. Hoping you
understand the seed that
goes into the darkness
always breaks before it
blooms. I hope the words
uttered from my lips make
their way past the boulders
of protection you've fashioned
around you, to swirl through the
cracks and sing sweetly to your soul.
I wish them to be a healing spark to
burn away your armored shell—
seeping into desolate caves of
your mind, offering you
fire-light, hopeful it
doesn't extinguish
in your internal
torrential
rain.
_________________________________________
It's always the right time to check in with a friend to ask how they're really doing, to tell them that you love them, and to let them know they have someone in their corner. A little love and kindness could make all the difference.
If you or someone you love is going through a mental health crisis or drug abuse issue, searching for help can be difficult, and it can be hard to know where to start. Here are a couple of places to look for information and help:
Additional research that may be helpful for some:
About the Creator
Kristen Balyeat
Words fly to me on the wind, bump into me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night– I’m humbly one of the many vessels they use to come to life.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
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Comments (18)
Kristen, this work of yours really brought home the story of my son's addiction and how much I want for his soul to heal. It's like you looked into our pain. A mother forgets that there are others universally going through the same plight. I empathize with them, as well. Thank you for this.
Oh, so well said, dear friend! One of the best Top Stories of the year. Congratulations, Kristen!
Hooray! I was hoping this would be up there soon! It’s so very good and important. Congrats on your top story Kristen! ☺️👏🎉🎉
Wow this is incredible and raw.. so relatable and full of emotion and feeling. You are a seriously talented writer, able to capture the readers attention! Congrats on this
Incredible journey through pain and hopelessness to RESCUE, GRACE, MERCY, REDEMPTION!! INSPIRATION through deep despair and faith to reach the light of HOPE!!! Love your thoughts, words and the way you put your emotions before us to touch our souls!! TS!!! For sure!
Kristen...Kristen...Kristen...pal. You are an artiste. see, said it all fancy like...cos I'm a bit teary eyed and been put through a ringer by your wonderful words. This is outstanding...my new favourite by you and one of the best things I've read on here. Seriously. Just important, but not preachy. Kind...and just stnning, sublime and yeah. Well done on a fucking awesome and important Top Story! Love it!
beautiful. This is exactly why I keep in touch with friends and family whom I don't get to see regularly. phone calls and email are always a good way to let them know I care.
There's that incredibly well-deserved TS. Congrats, my friend.
❤️❤️❤️ this is raw and beautiful
Holy… so damn powerful, so open and honest. If people don’t feel when they read this, then they are numb. Wonderful
This hit me so hard especially the second half. I'm a suicide survivor and it's not something I'm proud of. So you can see that I'm still mentally not okay. Your poem was very powerful!
This was intense! Particularly the first part! So much going on there! The second part was refreshing and both made an impact. It’s always important to get these kind of msgs out there Kristen! ☺️
I love that there seems to be two narrators within this poem. The first part I couldn’t relate to, but it was so well written that I kept reading. Then the second part blew my mind. It was so beautiful. ‘I can't force you to open the parachute I harnessed around you— only you can choose to pull the ripcord.’ These words are important for everyone to read who has lost someone to suicide or drug overdose. It’s so natural to feel guilt about all the ways you couldn’t be there, even if you were there as much as possible. Thank you for this.🤍
When the only armor that remains are those things which have fallen into all that is left unspoken, what healing is there to be had? And when the healing balm that is required is never offered, what hope does one have to avail for themselves?
Nice, I Like Your Formations♥️💯📝😉✌️
The second half was spectacular in the images you created and their symbolism. Well done. I don't know the source of this inspired poem, but hope you are ok xx
Oh my, that second half was such a balsam to the first.
Oh. My. God. I don't know what to say. This is one of the best things I've read, ever! Wow.