Mental Health

Don’t Cry on Me Girl
Don’t Cry on Me Girl Don’t turn on the water works Your tears mean nothing to me No, I am not nasty Just hardened to misery
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
EYES THAT THREATEN. Content Warning.
Eyes That Threaten, Voices That Heal Artguru They speak with eyes that burn and bind, Dark with vengeance, warped in mind.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
A Handful of My Heart. Content Warning.
What my heart has sown, my hands currently reap... all that hurts down to the core of every bone, and every cry from this war inside of me‐
By JMabout a year ago in Poets
He’s Different
He different Some may see him as self-centered He just self focus === Won’t catch him watching your IG stories He won't leave a comment
By L.I.Eabout a year ago in Poets
Don’t Leave Me
Please don’t leave me alone Don’t leave me here to drown in my own thoughts Because I'm an overthinker and my thoughts can go on and on
By L.I.Eabout a year ago in Poets
Let's Be Us
Some seek perfection, polished and neat, But we’re looking for delight in the crooked and sweet Someone to laugh at our nonsense, to echo our tune
By Abi Rose Travisabout a year ago in Poets
Gone
Gone The chair sits empty the clock ticks on shadows stretch across the floor I reach for what is not there Your laughter lingers
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Before The Jump. Top Story - August 2025.
what if she fell from a height that most don't come back from overcome with fright trailing the last of her breadcrumbs the ones left to remind her
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
Tick, Tock
Tock, tock - tick, tock... the time goes by so slow; I watch the clock. * An annoying knock and its creepy echo... tick, tock - tick, tock.
By Krysha Thorpabout a year ago in Poets
Autumnal Aromatherapy
Counting my blessings amid my grief feels like a chore much like raking these leaves earth fallen blades, stick it to me vibes
By Marilyn Gloverabout a year ago in Poets
Between Compass and Backfire. Content Warning.
...a journey south, 10 miles as the crow flies well... it would have been south if I had a compass and who still uses 10 miles as the crow flies nowadays?
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
Pyrrhic Victory . Runner-Up in Somewhere Between Here and There Challenge. Content Warning.
First, come the subaltern shoots of something's not right Passerby faces paint banal canvases on each other with point-blank stares, curtailing boredom like expressionless savants. How are they not afraid?
By Edward Swaffordabout a year ago in Poets