Mental Health

Sweet sixteen . Content Warning.
Sixteen isn’t always sweet. This piece is stitched from exhaustion, expectation, heartbreak, and hope. For every quiet girl who studies past midnight, skips lunch, and cries alone.
By Elowen Skye8 months ago in Poets
Y, Z, A
They don't like rock and roll They don't understand it The new generations Constantly plugged in Tuned in and tuned out
By Gene Lass8 months ago in Poets
I Sleep
I sleep because I’m not lonely in my dreams I sleep because, my dream is the only thing that make sense to me I sleep in the same position I always sleep
By L.I.E8 months ago in Poets
Still Here
Some days move slow, some pass too fast, One blink and somehow, years have passed. Tried to hold on, but time slipped through,
By V8 months ago in Poets
Imperfection: The Path to Self-Love
Among countless choices, I always gravitate towards those I believe are worthwhile. I might execute them beautifully or mess them up miserably, but that doesn't truly matter. What truly matters is that I've given my best. It's difficult to do everything perfectly and live a life without regrets. The key is to simply do our best, enjoy the process, and accept the results.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing8 months ago in Poets
When the Hour Strikes, the Silence Will Speak
O Man of pride! O King of Dust! O traveler chasing winds and rust! Thy crown is made of fleeting breath, Thy throne—a speck beneath the Death.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Poets
When the Hourglass Breaks
When the hourglass breaks and the sands have spilled, And silence falls where the noise once thrilled, We stand before the mirror of the End—
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Poets
When the Hourglass Breaks
When the hourglass breaks and the sands have spilled, And silence falls where the noise once thrilled, We stand before the mirror of the End—
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Poets
My Dream
I have seen the face of man, Not the outer flesh but the lurking stain— A mask so proud, it veils the shame, A crown of thorns worn in disdain.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Poets
Only Echoes
That was who I was. I was loud enough to hear — but only from a distance. A voice folded in fog, never quite reaching the place it longed to land.
By Lovina Miganeh8 months ago in Poets
When Love Spoke First
I was a thorn upon the breeze, A brittle voice, a rustling sneeze Of sorrow’s breath, of fire and drought— But Love came softly, burned me out.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Poets
The Plague . Top Story - June 2025.
It wasn’t the soft betrayal of a trying afternoon that changed me, but the crawl. The slick, unholy hush of frogs in my thoughts.
By Natasha Collazo8 months ago in Poets