Mental Health

𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑
always different i never fit in. ever bullied bruised mocked for not fighting back but now i see those were never my battles
By Colleen Walters6 months ago in Poets
Stitching Rhyme to Verse
This piece began in 1968, when I was 18 and stitching rhyme to verse in a bright room, thinking I was the only lonely one. I stepped back into that voice today and let her speak again.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 6 months ago in Poets
Alien
I got so good at hiding I disappeared, so good at camouflaging, just wanted to be liked, just wanted to be heard. Went from hiding to invisible, funny how that works,
By Mariana6 months ago in Poets
Dreams II
In dreams, the floor begins to melt away the cities become puddles the whole world a sea, - choppy waves with bite gnaw at raw legs
By Reece Beckett6 months ago in Poets
Somewhere in Between
I’ve never been good at saying yes. Even to the simplest of things. Yes, buy me a coffee. Yes, I’ll go with you to Germany.
By Mariana6 months ago in Poets
The Day After the Fire
Author's notes: I wanted this poem to feel the way memory actually behaves during grief and change; fragmented, circular, and emotionally out of sequence. By disrupting chronology, I hoped to show how loss can collapse years into a single moment, where the past, present, and future all speak at once.
By Ajan Lori A. 6 months ago in Poets
Reach
Oblivion, his body gone; An instant visceral storm that has spread beyond all reason, to the outer rims of loved and known.
By Victoria Bamber6 months ago in Poets
The Art of Gathering and Scattering
Don’t blame yourself; everything and everyone happens for a reason. If you have tried your best and still cannot hold onto something, let it go naturally. Life is inherently a process of "gathering" and "scattering."
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing6 months ago in Poets
Because They're Lost
Why the robin lands just close enough and stays longer than it should. Why the white feather floats down nearby, with no birds overhead.
By Laura Jane6 months ago in Poets
❤️The Rainbow Bridge of Appreciative Attitude❤️
surviving cancer, not once but twice ❤️ waking up from a nightmare on Elm Street, alive, becoming appreciative all the doctors and nurses who cared for me,
By SAMURAI SAM: Wild Wayne6 months ago in Poets
The I
The I in me will ever be— the I is a seeker. Never complacent, nor slave to self’s desires, it must exist in singular: fully contained, fully grounded, before the I can become we. The I should be able to function— untethered from the eyes looking at, but not in. The difference is everything. Looking at is scrutiny; the other may be care— it takes time, and a certain devotion, to know the center of your I. And even that center may shift. So— center your I. Search your I. Love your I. Not as command, but as return. Your I— uncertain, becoming, ever-reaching— is an original.
By Ms Jade 6 months ago in Poets
Third of the Sixth
These four walls feel suffocating But the outside is deafening Maybe that's the wrong way One the other, the other the one
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Poets