Mental Health
Be Loyal to Your Future, Not Your Past
“The Bag I Carried” For years, I carried a bag I didn’t realize was heavy. It wasn’t leather or canvas or anything physical. It was invisible, but I felt it every day—a weight on my shoulders, a shadow over my decisions. It was full of memories, mistakes, regrets, what-ifs, and a voice that always whispered, “But that’s who you’ve always been.”
By lony banzaabout a year ago in Poets
Born Before My Time
I was eight years old. But I knew too much. I knew how hunger felt. How gas runs out. How silence between parents sounds like shouting. I knew how to wait. How to lie "Everything's fine." I learned not to ask. Because questions broke people. And I couldn’t fix them. I saw my mother cry when she thought I slept. I heard my father whisper to the wall “What did I do wrong?” I wanted to fix it. But I was just a child. Still, I grew up. Faster than others. While they played, I prayed. For peace. For food. For light not to go out. I sold plastic bottles. Collected cold coins. Watched people look away. I understood. I looked away too. At school they laughed. At my shoes. My silence. But I kept going. Because quitting was expensive. And I couldn’t afford it. One day, a teacher asked, “What do you want to be?” I said “Safe.” She smiled. Thought it was a joke. But I wasn’t laughing. Years passed. Wrinkles grew before dreams. But I’m still here. Not rich. Not loud. But standing. Still trying. Still remembering How life didn’t wait. How I was born before my time.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
Me & You Walking, Like Exorcism
When someone as ugly as you walks — besides me, something releases. The felts, the embedded policing from my past affects me no more. Not noticing, because of the long, long walk with you— so beautiful, your face... so magnificently spotted. Every spot from me into the wind, like exorcism. A freeing, walking together, me and you.
By K.A. Smithabout a year ago in Poets
