Mental Health
Forgive me, Peter
Forgive me, Peter, for I must've never caught on to the sacrifices you've chosen not to make in the aftermath of our loss. Forgive me, Peter, for I must've been overreacting - flailing about the way I was, flying myself across the room in a rage that clearly had everything to do with myself and my own issues. Forgive me, Peter, for I never realized just how much you've gave up just to have me.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet2 years ago in Poets
The Shine of Hope
Title: The Shine of Hope In the bustling streets of a big city, where the honks of cars and the chatter of people created a constant hum, lived a young boy named Aryan. Every day, Aryan would sit on a small wooden stool on the footpath, his fingers stained with shoe polish, and a worn-out brush in hand. At just 12 years old, he had become the breadwinner of his family after his father fell ill and could no longer work. His mother stitched clothes at home, and Aryan did his best to contribute to their humble earnings.
By Timeline Teller2 years ago in Poets
a bird for a day
you ask me where i would go if i was a bird for a day, as though everyone just wants to escape some town, as though anywhere else fosters comfort. you expect to hear Rome or Paris fall wistfully from my lips as i imagine soaring toward a sky that looks like nirvana to people who hate feeling the earth beneath their feet. how do i express to you that wings would be wasted on someone like me, without sounding like someone afraid of things like heights or concepts like change? how might you think of me when i tell you it's not a place i wish to leave or a place i hope to reach? i could be a bird and i could fly across the world, but i'd still ache in Venice and i'd still yearn in Barcelona for something you can't find on a postcard.
By melancholy galaxies2 years ago in Poets
