Mental Health

A Morning Day in the Life of the Pink Lady
A Morning Day in the Life of the Pink Lady This isn’t just a day, it’s a sonic diary wrapped in pink sheets and browser haze. Welcome to the myth of the Pink Lady. This is partly truth and fiction in The Pink Series.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
You Are Not Welcomed Here...
My peace is gone, my calm once more stolen The chaos of my mind runs wild I am no longer young, and free Strapped down to my so called life, trapped behind caged bars
By J.W. Bairdabout a year ago in Poets
The forgotten
I finally lost what I've been fighting for today the remembrance of you is all that remains and that's until my memory begins it's end Some parts of you were irreplaceable to me like the ashes of my father In a glass heart And my great grandmother's golden locket These I shall never forget That is where I find solace I could have found a way to save you to keep you around for safe keeping but something odd struck me deeply I had been so afraid of losing all of you telling myself I could in no way survive it and the truth is when I said that it felt true Then the question came to the surface, was holding onto you actually helping me? The knowing answer was one I didn't like Yes, a few cherished things sat all wrapped up in pieces of old news, in their own special boxes, but around them were miles of tears to rediscover Old wounds not yet fully healed, barely scars Seeing your faces again would take me down more than the ghost stating your absence For a long time I felt like I deserved the pain then I felt like holding our moments helped but finding old photos proved me very wrong The failure seeped into my core, rotting away at the only small pieces of good memories left You have become both blessing and curse Like a snake eating its tail until its fated end this sickening cycle has kept me on its ride faking my death pretending you were my life But today I let go of the rope of desperation to keep some semblance of you near me Today I chose my future, the past not defining.
By Tressa Roseabout a year ago in Poets
The raise I never wanted
Foggy memory took place in a foggy mirror. Late-night whispering from my sleep to reality. Fingers are cold, wiped foggy mirror, unrecognized pale souls embarked on a silent night.
By Johana Torresabout a year ago in Poets
Winds of fate. Content Warning.
How long can one lay on the brink of life or death before the choice is taken away? Losing you made me lose the will to live I debated it honestly the reaper testing me I was close once a little bit too close standing on a ledge tip-toed testing waters Looking down below seeing the people scurry like small ants having a purpose Brink of insanity closing my eyes letting the wind choose my fate
By Tressa Roseabout a year ago in Poets
Somewhere Between Here And There.... Content Warning.
Sometimes I welcome death and sometimes I run from it and try to hide There's this feeling I get deep down inside My life is filled with Grey skies and Hazy Days
By J.W. Bairdabout a year ago in Poets
Understanding The Forge Of Creating A Different Future
If you want to Create a Different Future... You must Put Yourself through a Forge. It is a Difficult Thing to Face. There is the Fire of Creation that You Must Immerse Yourself Into.
By H.E. Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, COIE, DFM, DHMabout a year ago in Poets
A Choice for Clarity
I'd rather live a simple life alone than get caught up in a complicated relationship with all its complex feelings. A relationship that should have ended long ago might be prolonged, but it will never lead to a successful conclusion. Even if an unsuitable person enters your life, they will eventually leave.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
Dear September!
Have you ever noticed how September feels like both a beginning and an ending? A month where the light softens, the air cools, and yet, everything within us feels like it’s waking up again.
By John Smithabout a year ago in Poets
Dancing in a fog
I feel like I am dancing in a fog, a dance I used to know, but the steps slip away, the tune half-remembered, out of reach.
By Susan Fourtané about a year ago in Poets
What’s in a Name?
Don’t worry You’re not to blame For I have gone by many a name Three last names Just my first Just my last Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
POEM - The Fractured Halo
It was not forged in furnaces divine, Nor hammered on a celestial anvil's face, But gathered from the light of a late sign,
By Jacky Kapadiaabout a year ago in Poets