Mental Health
Whispers of the Unrighted
In shadows where the sunlight fades, A heart beats heavy, burdened by shades. Whispers curl like smoke in the air, Echoing secrets too dark to share. Promises tangled in cobwebbed dreams, Fractured hopes unravel at their seams. Crimson stains on a tattered past, The weight of choices that hold us fast. Through hollow halls of forgotten cries, Lies linger thick as fog that denies. Each step a tremor on this cursed ground, Where echoes of laughter have long drowned. It’s not right—this silence that screams, This twisted dance of broken schemes. Innocence lost to a shadowy blight, As day succumbs to encroaching night. Yet through the darkness, a flicker remains; A spark ignites amidst sorrow's chains. For in despair's grip where hope takes flight, We rise from ashes—not bound by plight.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
A Rabid Heart
In shadows where the moonlight weeps, A raven's cry from silence creeps, The rabid heart begins to race, As darkness folds in grim embrace. With teeth like daggers, gnashing wild, It knows no mercy; it’s defiled. Fury seethes beneath the skin, A tempest howls where hope has been. The fevered dreams of restless nights, Are painted red with primal bites. Each heartbeat echoes in the void, Where innocence is long destroyed. Beneath the skin a beast awakes, With hollow eyes that hunger makes. It prowls through memories’ decay, And gnaws at bonds that once held sway. In every whisper lies despair, In every glance—a haunting stare. Chained to the madness it infests, A soul forsaken never rests. Yet in this chaos forged anew, Resilience blooms—a flower grew— From ashes cold and bitter pain; A twisted heart can love again. But still the rabid claw remains— It grips my mind with iron chains; And so I dance on edges thin— Between the dark and light within.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Sign of Betrayal
In the garden where shadows creep, Among thorns that cut and weep, I planted trust in fertile ground, But malice grew where love was found. You wore a mask of tender grace, With every smile, a sly embrace; Your laughter danced like silver light, Yet hid the dagger poised to bite. Each whispered promise turned to dust, In echoes of betrayed trust. The roots entwined in darkness' grasp, What once was sweet now chokes and gasps. A wraith-like fog wraps 'round my heart, The taste of venom tears apart; You painted skies with hues so bright— Now tempest storms consume the night. I scorn the memories we shared, For every moment left me bared; A ghostly figure haunts my mind— The friend I loved now cruel and blind. So here I stand amidst the gloom, Beneath this weighty cloak of doom; With fury fierce as winter's frost, I mourn for what I thought was lost. And in this darkened garden's core, Where wrath has settled evermore— I'll weave my pain into a crown, A twisted throne of thorns renown
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
