Mental Health

VI. Becoming
Resurrection is patient— and merciful. We found each other again not as saviors, but as survivors who chose healing as daily bread.
By SUEDE the poet3 months ago in Poets
The Unmaking
There was a time I would have thrown myself into the flames to save what burned there. The photographs, the promises, the careful architecture
By Tim Carmichael3 months ago in Poets
The Power of Choosing Silence
Sometimes I choose silence, not because I don't care, but because I know that talking too much only makes things more complicated. The more complicated the matter, the more I want to brush it off simply. The more vulnerable I feel, the stronger I appear.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing3 months ago in Poets
Instructions for Waking Up
First, do not bully the light. Let it sneak in through the cheap blinds, thin as a rumor, slow as an apology that took years to form.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
Behind the Unsaid
We sat on opposite ends of one small, faithful couch. Our sentences in winter coats, our silences a crouch. The lamp rehearsed a warmer mood; the window watched instead.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
Spirals Downhill
It all starts with the mistaken belief (sorry Hank, but not that much) that anyone wants to read anything I write. The spirals downhill from there.
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Poets
Can a Broader Perspective Set You Free?
When a person's perspective broadens, they won't get lost in the trivialities of life; truly confident people can always achieve a simple yet powerful expression.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing3 months ago in Poets
Swollen
maybe all I want is for someone to say that it will all be okay. even if it’s a lie maybe I still wish I could hear
By Ruby Red3 months ago in Poets
The Mirror Cycle (Poetry)
I. The Mirror Isn’t Me (Philosophical — AABB) . I look into the mirror’s face, A quiet, silver, borrowed space. It copies me without a sound,
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast3 months ago in Poets
The Falling Season
Lustering scarlet like the Burning Bush in autumn, Mama was audacious in her lifetime. Unmatched in the beauty of her gaze, her mind, and her heart ... Then
By Khoi Verona3 months ago in Poets
Clay Where I Keep You
I keep you in a bowl I made one late November night. With thumbs that didn’t trust themselves and wrists that held on tight.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
Food.. Content Warning.
I'm buried so deep, underneath many layers of grief, My eyes are bleak My mind on the brink From the lack of sleep
By CotardDelusionz3 months ago in Poets