Mental Health
I'm Still Processing...
I'm still processing what you did; Still remembering the haunting sound of your voice, Still feeling the punches as if they were still happening, And, Still processing the silent tears that fall, When nobody is watching. They tell me I'm recovered; Maybe I am, But even recovery doesn't mean completely healed. I hide my scars, My pain, So that nobody can see or hear them. I smile every day, While still bleeding tears in my heart. It's not always like this; Some days when I wake up, I'm genuinely happy, Other days, I'm happy on the outside, Sad on the inside. I am this way, Because, I'm still processing the trauma, And trauma leaves memories, That cannot be erased, That cannot be taken away, Even after many years of therapy.
By Carol Ann Townend2 months ago in Poets
Mine Your Own Gold
In this life, never waste your talents. Are you willing to love yourself? Can you sincerely cheer for your own life? The greatest tragedy in life is dying without ever seeing your true self—reaching the very end without being able to acknowledge or accept yourself, without being able to like or appreciate yourself, and without being able to genuinely celebrate yourself.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing2 months ago in Poets
“Light Over the Earth”
“Light Over the Earth” Today a world of peace Is being turned into a world of grief, Grief for the division of light As shadows rise and try to steal the night. But even when the darkness grows, A brighter truth still softly glows. I send light, I send love, I send peace from up above. Let it rise, Let it release, Let it calm this trembling earth And bring our weary hearts relief. Darkness tries to build its throne, A fortress made of fear and stone. Despair is a sadness that doesn’t care It pulls the spirit into heavy air. But light can spark, ignite, and climb, Breaking walls one truth at a time. I send light, I send love, I send peace from up above. Let it rise, Let it release, Let it calm this trembling earth And bring our weary hearts relief. Despite the cultures built on spite, Despite the wounds that steal our sight, Despite the hate that tries to reign, Love still walks through every pain. Light remembers what we forgot We heal the world by what we’ve got. I send light, I send love, I send peace from up above. Let it rise, Let it release, Let it wash across the earth And bring our weary hearts relief I send light… I send love… I send peace.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 months ago in Poets
A GHOST IN THE VEIN (6-14-2018)
A GHOST IN THE VEIN (6-14-2018) I was listening to Johnny Cash's version of HURT. When the Lyric "the needle tears a hole" came up, I remembered this poem. Addiction has a cost. The addicted don't care but it is not intentional. It is a type of 'don't care' that is forced on one by addiction. The biggest HURT is those that love the addict. There is no escape-even when you disown or erase that person from your life. It doesn't happen. I just don't know how to explain that kind of pain. Writing a poem was the only way I could try.
By Victor Mendez2 months ago in Poets
