Mental Health

The Silence After Goodbye
I didn’t hear the door close. That’s the thing about endings — they’re quieter than we expect. There’s no slam, no echo,
By Mahmood Afridiabout a year ago in Poets
Roots
She grew up knowing what pain looked like. On the face of her mother, In the hands of her father. But she painted her nails the color of sunrise
By Shannon E. Mackabout a year ago in Poets
From The Overflow of My Heart II. Content Warning.
Forgive my Speech, in saying that I'd rather not be conscious‐ I am only honest... in what my heart has chosen to speak—
By JMabout a year ago in Poets
MONSTERS AT BAY
MONSTERS AT BAY 7-1-2025 There was a man..made of.. Broken stones, Broken rocks, Broken bones.. of Earth and clay, musty and dank..in decay..
By Victor Mendezabout a year ago in Poets
What is a Concentration Camp?
Another writer here on Vocal gave me this idea from an article they wrote, and I hope she won't mind using one of the phrases they used in their article.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Poets
Damning Truths. Content Warning.
Your insidious words ringing in my ears, day after day, plaguing me at all hours. Inescapable droning tinnitus, that leaves me clawing at the wretched pealing holes in my head. The laughing, always the laughing as I cry. Wailing in abject misery and terrific pain, and crawling on my knees, begging for release from your sadistic games and legalistic contracts.
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
Why Do We Set Sail?
We are in the great ocean of life just as the fisherman is, who throws out his net without having an idea where the fish are. He goes forth because he expects to come back with a full load, and in a similar fashion, you will find that most of the time opportunities present themselves only when you decide to take a step. Opportunities present themselves when you believe, and possibilities actually become reality when you act.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
Did I Say That Out Loud
Did I say that out loud Did I finally slip Did I open the clouds Did that fall from my lips Did the dam really break Did it come rushing out
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
Not to be Remembered by All
I have never stopped moving— even when it felt like I had. Step by step, day by day, I kept going. I can’t say I was living. But I was surviving. That’s the most I could do. Survive the harshness of this world. Move forward with the weight dragging on my shoulders. Through pain. Through regret. I walk a difficult path. And I’m not trying to overstate my struggle— I know I’m not alone in this. Others have walked it too. It’s not just me. I wish it was. Because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else. This is hell. Not the one after death, but the one I have to live through. Demons I fight daily. Heat I endure constantly. This… this is going to be the end of me. It’s going to consume me whole— my dreams, my joy, my life— if any such things ever existed. I’ll lose it all. And I’ll fade into a memory— forgotten, lost in the quiet pages of time. Someone who was never anything, never anyone. Too insignificant to be remembered. That’s the future I see. That’s the path I’m walking. But fuck that. I might not move mountains. I might not pull the sword from the stone. I might never change the world, or shift the skies. But I will move forward. I’ll be the best son. The best husband. The best father. For everything I’m not to the world— I’ll be something to the people I love. I don’t need to be remembered by everyone. Just by the ones who matter.
By Akîabout a year ago in Poets
The imitation of sanity
I didn’t ask to be born into this world. Everything began against my will— my birth, the school I went to, the course I took, the job I got. Maybe not all of it. No one really forced me. I had a choice… I think. But I never truly wanted any of it. Not like it was ambition. It was just the path I was led to— by someone. It’s funny, coming from an atheist— this idea of a predetermined path. I thought I left behind the belief in some higher power pulling the strings. Because if I do believe that, then I’m letting go of the last shred of control I have— the only thing I have left to prove I exist. The body is always here. Seen by everyone, touched by everyone. But am I just a body? To the world, that might be enough to prove I’m real. But only I know what I’ve shed over the years— piece by piece. Some taken by others. Some lost to time. At first, I told myself it was fine. That I could collect new pieces for the ones I lost. But I never did. And now I have nothing left to give. I’m just an empty shell of whatever I once was. Can I even say that— when I can’t remember what I used to be? Did I talk? Did I laugh? Did I live? Maybe it was all a lie. Stories my mind invented to ease the pain. That’s stupid. If that’s the case, my mind should have done better— ignored its own existence. What good does it do to remember lost feelings? Is that what I’m doing now? Fuck. Here I was, thinking I’m still sane. But I’m not. I’m a madman. I’ve completely lost it. What day is it? Is there even a tomorrow? I hope not. Ha… How stupid I was to think I’m sane. What sane person wishes for an end? Sane people want to live. They talk. They laugh at jokes. They want things. They desire. I tried. Tried to imitate the sane. Tried to talk, to laugh, to do the things they do. Maybe I fooled everyone. But I never fooled myself.
By Akîabout a year ago in Poets
A BREATH BETWEEN EARTHS. Content Warning.
A Breath Between Earths Earth 12 remembered. Earth 19 burned. This is the inhale between them. Sometimes the body speaks before the story does.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Love bombing
Bombarding someone with love is a manipulative game that breaks us into pieces, and then with so-called love, and then we have years to put the pieces back together, still forgiving, still loving, still not knowing how to let go of what has already been healed and freed. Why does it come back in our most difficult moments to add to the pain that still needs time to digest and transform? It's not something you just have to let go and heal, but something worth considering so that you can start healing from it every month, every year, until it finally disappears on its own and naturally. Some experiences of being bombarded with love simply end because they did not last long. You discovered the person who bombarded you with love, and you simply labeled them “hate” or simply forgot about the end. Healing from them takes less time, but for others it requires much more work and effort. It crushes you when you've already healed from so many of them, and suddenly, again and again, something brings pain that needs to be healed from the roots to the end, and these paths are the most difficult, but also in these phases and paths of healing, we are reborn with something more than just the loss of our self-esteem or self-confidence. We rebuild all the lost elements into one stronger, better, wiser, and less naive empathy to give another person a chance to take action within the already planned clan registered in their brain We just know our body signals us the danger we feel this energy through painful phase like feeling discomfort or headache all kinds of unexplained pains and sensations mind become dark its where You know You are dealing with narcissistic psychopathic sociopathic one even though your openness love good intention need to have fun to socialise you need say No to avoid another abusive ride because they will serve it a lot whether You like it realize or Not it is better to stop before.
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda about a year ago in Poets