Mental Health

Fancy o Sick (or: A Brief History of My Innards)
dirt dirt stained grained she spins me round, ingrained and restrained like a rotisserie chicken derailed, resailed in a dirty, rat-infested
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
The Fire I Became
There's ash falling around me The sky alight with orange flame The flame, devouring everything I see Consuming all your shame
By Kelabout a year ago in Poets
Halfway to Somewhere
I forgot why I came outside— but the breeze feels like enough. I walk because I started to, because sitting felt like too much
By Annie Edwards about a year ago in Poets
The Quiet Strength of Starting Over
There’s a kind of bravery no one talks about—the quiet kind. It’s not loud like fireworks or fierce like a storm. It’s the soft decision to keep going when your heart feels heavy.
By Fearlessabout a year ago in Poets
Where Truth Fell
A poetic reckoning with betrayal, illusion, and inner rebirth.A poem for those who stood in fire and rose anyway. Some truths are only born in fire. This poem is a reflection of what we learn when illusion burns away.
By HasanSoulInkabout a year ago in Poets
Unsaid Observations
Late at night, when I can not rest and unfinished thoughts rise in my chest Quietly still, I try to lay till untold words are caught
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
These Lyrics Broke Me And Then Stitched Me Up - You Need to Hear Sleeping At Last
If you seek songs that leave you shattered and whole at the same time - keep reading. There are artists you listen to, and then there are artists who listen to you. Sleeping At Last has always felt like the latter. With lyrics that carry comfort, brokenness, love, grief, and acceptance all at once, Ryan O'Neal captures emotions so delicately it feels like he's stitching them together with light.
By Scarlett R. 🍁about a year ago in Poets
Forging Strength: A Realistic View
The times that truly make you stronger are always when life feels worse than death. It's a grueling process of watching yourself being torn into pieces and then meticulously putting yourself back together with your own hands; indeed, if you've never been close to the devil, you can never become an angel.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
Words Say
I wonder what it's all about this game of life we play We spill so much out of our mouths with nothing valuable to say Small talk and innuendos
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
Crying to God in the Shower
it's a good thing God is your judge for the women of the world the children the multitudinous “other” we are wretchedly
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
Through the Hollow
In the hush of a world that forgot how to care, I lay wrapped in shadows too heavy to bear. The silence screamed loud through the cracks in my mind,
By Richard Baileyabout a year ago in Poets
Gum Wrappers and Lunch Bags
Inevitably, they ask me what I do for a living. I ponder the odd, in-between jobs, here and there, this and that barely
By Sam Eliza Greenabout a year ago in Poets