Mental Health

Am I Ready?. Content Warning.
Do it. It won't be so bad. The water will give you peace like you never had. No one will miss you after that spell. Anyone who asks could be told you're in Hell.
By Adam Wallace8 months ago in Poets
What Could've Been.... Content Warning.
“I’d never choose to abort.” I’d lost too many miracles before— A surprise conceived In the back seat of a car. Hope had arrived—
By Sharna Halliwell8 months ago in Poets
Whoops
Whoops, I didn't mean to stalk your page When will these thoughts go away Accidently pressed the follow button Then gain control of my impulses and unfollowed
By L.I.E8 months ago in Poets
Lose And Gain
So much to lose Still, a lot to gain So much to choose Hope I pick the right lane What am I going to do This life is filled with pain
By L.I.E8 months ago in Poets
Songs of Heat and Rain
O love, this heat— the sun ascends with fierce delight, yet rivers brim, lakes still run deep, and moonlight soothes the weary night.
By Dipayan Biswas8 months ago in Poets
Message of Condolences For Those Who Lost Their Family Members On India Plane Crash. AI-Generated.
To the hearts left broken, to the arms left empty, To every mother who still sets the table for a child who won’t return, To every father who now searches the sky, not for planes but for peace,
By taylor lindani8 months ago in Poets
Reinvention
I loved her to the point of invention Ignored her barbed tongue and condescension - I gladly tore down the self I had made
By Sean A.8 months ago in Poets
Shaving the Grey
I shaved my head today I shaved the grey away Not that I mind it Not really anyway Not that I sit awake Thinking about my grey
By Paul Stewart8 months ago in Poets
The First Time We Forgot to Feel
The first time I cried, I was a breath wrapped in silence, not shame. A mother’s lap—a temple. A father’s palm—a planet. Even pain had poetry back then.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Poets
I Call the Ruins Home
I call the ruins home. Not because I chose them, but because I survived them. I gathered what was left after the fall—shards of memory, scorched trust, walls that no longer stood—and I built something that looked like shelter. The ruins didn’t ask if I belonged. They recognized me. And I, too tired to run, let them fold around me.
By R. Byer8 months ago in Poets
no antidote. Content Warning.
he was a prince when i met him. what struck me wasn't his fist. not that first night. it was his kyanite eyes that capture the depth -
By ⸘jason alan‽8 months ago in Poets
Maybe I am a doll
Maybe I am a doll with legs that stretch back and touch my long hair always ready to play when wanted never crying my tear ducts plastic
By Ariana GonBon8 months ago in Poets