Mental Health

Compass of Thorns
Pain used to make me flinch, shrink into the deepest corners of myself where light couldn’t reach. But I’ve learned to follow it like a compass
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets
Spit
I keep a whole war behind my teeth. Barricaded beneath my tongue i keep a whole war in the back of my throat sounds breaking before they are
By River and Celia in Underlandabout a year ago in Poets
Turning of seasons through
The wind changed softer sigh, With golden poise, summer comes to an end. And autumn paints the evening sky With crimson leaves and cool embrace.
By Lajuk anjumabout a year ago in Poets
It's not about being anxious about work!
Only a fool would be anxious about work. Your main job is to enjoy life, and working part-time is just your side job. People have no choice but to work; work is merely a tool for making money.
By Lunaabout a year ago in Poets
I Can Fly (Maybe!)
I must be my imagination Making me think this way All of a sudden, I feel euphoric Got a big smile on my face today Imagine that I think I can fly
By Calvin Londonabout a year ago in Poets
warning of the watching
This is your warning of my eyes As I am the person you can count on to be watching. This is your warning of my ears, Because you should know that I am listening.
By Ruby Redabout a year ago in Poets
"Instructions for Unfolding"
Step one: forget the script. Step two: remember the ache behind your smile— how it hums like a haunted violin tuned to someone else’s dream.
By Vishwaksenabout a year ago in Poets
"The Echo Has Teeth"
I left my name on a mirror once— fog-breathed and fading before I could finish the last letter. They called me by what they needed.
By Vishwaksenabout a year ago in Poets
Memorial Day 2025. Content Warning.
After sleeping in today, I decided to create this commentary into a video story song. This is my commentary regarding the occupation of the Whitehouse by demented evil clowns who create destruction, death, and genocide.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
If it Quacks
I’m walking a balancing beam soles turned out, duck-footed with poise. Teetering the edge of conviction, between my grandmother and mother.
By Natasha Collazoabout a year ago in Poets
A Glimpse of Miles
New York feels a little emptier without him around. Looking at this photo–Miles, his squint like worn leather, his fingers holding grace like something fragile and rare– it reminds you of something you just don’t see anymore. And the rest of us– we're left wondering: Who was driving that truck? And all we can do is sigh: Death sure knows how to steal the best stuff when your'e not looking.
By The Learning Ledgerabout a year ago in Poets
Sanity poem
shadows swallow shallow shoulder shine swords sustain sacrifices self sold solid soul solo sortout still short, soft. Steady strike
By Karun about a year ago in Poets