Mental Health

Sometimes
Sometimes, I don’t know who I am. I hide between who I wish to be and what the rest wants to see. There are traces of malice in my acts of kindness,
By Krizzia BW6 months ago in Poets
Instructions for Disappearing
Agent V, I received your transmission. You’re compromised; they can pinpoint your exact position. There’s only one way to deflect
By Ashley Clanton6 months ago in Poets
Four Haiku
Little boy alone: I start as a child with books. No shared love with them. * School for achievement? Certificates and good grades.
By Kendall Defoe 6 months ago in Poets
Stable withdrawals
Dependency, built from repetition of harmful behaviors, stains the mind— shattering the need for self-reliance. We slowly lose
By Marcus Hill6 months ago in Poets
I’m Not Whining. I’m Seething.. Content Warning.
Let's be crystal fucking clear. I’m not writing because I want pity. And don't bother with thoughts or prayers. I’m writing because I’m living in a body that’s collapsing in slow motion while everyone around me keeps suggesting I “try counseling or CBD or $10 Tea."
By Danielle Katsouros6 months ago in Poets
Vanish Into The City
Blitz Poetry ∞ To melt into the soothing dimensions of your mind is To walk the journey back to yourself Yourself channelling sixth senses
By Chantal Christie Weiss6 months ago in Poets
"Orange". Top Story - August 2025.
Orange areas on my skin... reality— the areas are brown, areas, tan. Am I an animal? Am I sand? Will I be extinct just as I stand?
By K.A. Smith6 months ago in Poets
Hindsight
If I'd known then, I'd have regret I'd know a lot more strangers I'd wish that we had never met And save my heart from danger
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden6 months ago in Poets
Wishing For Parents
Feeling the frigid, fierce force of the loss of control: my flat, my car, and just recently, my computer — all vanished, all gone. I stand silently still, summarizing and simulating the same old stories and thoughts, wondering why I am unable to wilfully wheedle out, through these wuthering heights, access to my true potential, even though I’ve shovelled so deep, and deeper down, into an already burrowed ground.
By Chantal Christie Weiss6 months ago in Poets
clocked in
So it never really changes, does it? The work life The American dream Perhaps it’s a universal cesspool To wake and work and wait
By angela hepworth6 months ago in Poets
Trauma Led to Psychopathy
The man was not born a psychopath but circumstances handled wrong made him one. It started when his happy-go-lucky life
By Seema Patel6 months ago in Poets
Long Deep Love Message for Her. Top Story - August 2025.
I have loved you in the quiet before dawn, when the air is still and the world has not yet learned its own name. I have loved you
By Emma 6 months ago in Poets