Mental Health

The Bogie Man Under My Bed
The Bogie Man Under My Bed He don’t rattle chains or howl at the moon he sits in the still, where the dark grows soon his breath smells of soil, old damp and dread
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Viola's Purple Veil. Top Story - August 2025. Content Warning.
This was created by Vicki, me. I am no longer producing a paranormal channel with my friend. It is all about Trusselli Art, music, art, film, and progressive politics. I like to create art reflecting truth, fantasy, metaphors, innuendos and manifestations of art and dreams. I bring my dreams to life through my art. I want to share, be cool, creative, paranormal, and be in a paint bucket of life.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Consent Form
Content Warning: This poem contains references to sexual assault, medical trauma, and institutional violence. She signed the line they traced across her thigh
By Fatal Serendipityabout a year ago in Poets
The Shapeshifter
Probing tendrils pass over textures, details, and meanings Carrying the body through a kaleidoscope of other people's dreams.
By Ian Lundabout a year ago in Poets
Free From Freedom
How can I say this? My mind caged as I witness— I'm... my only witness. On this day, these days, without forgiveness, I ask for forgiveness.
By Unspoken Wordsabout a year ago in Poets
Onboarding for the Disembodied
What happens when grief enters a system? When sorrow is weighed like evidence, when memory is scanned and filed, when time loses track of your name? These four poems trace the quiet passage of a soul through intake and error, through digital shadows and misspoken needs, and into a house where even silence keeps its own schedule.
By Fatal Serendipityabout a year ago in Poets
Is True Acceptance Found, or Forged?
Living in this world, the hardest thing is to satisfy everyone. No matter how good you are, some people will hate you. No matter how sincere you are, there will always be those who doubt you. Sometimes, it's not that you are flawed, but rather that you haven't met the right person. To those who dislike you, you might be the worst sight. Yet, in the hearts of those who appreciate you, you are the brightest star.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
Becoming a Hardcore Capitalist
Throughout your life, you have introduced new ideas to your family. They continually assaulted you. Your family only cared about themselves, and they took everything from you.
By TheNaethabout a year ago in Poets
The Fog is Thick
The fog is thick this morning. The window tint, a greenish-white haze as if the panes are frosted glass. The tree across the yard has disappeared.
By Natalie Wilkinsonabout a year ago in Poets
In Honor of the Slain Police Officer
What kind of country are we becoming? I read the news of a police officer in New York, being fatally shot by a gunman. As I saw his funeral procession, my heart broke.
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
Me and My Heart
Me and my heart, we talk at night, In whispers soft, beneath moonlight. It beats so loud when I feel pain, Yet sings with joy like summer rain.
By Solene Hartabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers of the Forgotten Wind
By Nadeem Shah I. The Wind Remembers The wind does not forget It gathers our yesterdays And scatters them gently across the pines—
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Poets