Mental Health

A reminder to nourish my body
What an ideal day! Today I told myself to rest. Today I accept the defeat. Today I realize that my body is exhausted. ~~
By Gloria Penelopeabout a year ago in Poets
The Electric Bill (cont.). Content Warning.
The lights‐ they won't turn off, every switch is down every plug, pulled every fuse, blown and still, I am blinded‐
By Josh Morganabout a year ago in Poets
What's an Adequate Appetite?. Content Warning.
I'm so fucking hungry. My belly roars at me incessantly. Internal acid bubbles pop, burning the lining of my stomach. But, deep down, I know no foods can satiate such a calling.
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets
Just Become Selfish Because No One Cares
Are you selfless? Well, I've learned to care less. When I gave my all, when I dared, The truth hit hard - no one cared. I held on tight, to values and grace, But found myself lost, out of place. I poured out kindness, stayed so pure, Yet silence told me - nothing's sure.
By Adarsh Kumar Singhabout a year ago in Poets
For My Daughter
Video Courtesy of You Tube: Accessed by Author: 28/09/2024 Do you remember when you were a little girl? We used to sing songs together,
By Carol Ann Townendabout a year ago in Poets
My Colorful Emotions
I can feel the color red and the intensity it carries Listening to the crisp cool sounds of blue stopping by to tell a story
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
These voices.... Content Warning.
These voices - they are calling... These voices - there's no ignoring... These voices they just won't stop, I'm so scared and I've had enough...
By Mat Barnsleyabout a year ago in Poets
I am an ocean
I am an ocean; I am a sea. On some days, I am calm; On others, I am ghastly. A storm is brewing behind these eyes, And the seas begin to swell.
By Mat Barnsleyabout a year ago in Poets
My Homeless Husband
A blue eyed towhead, androgynous dream; now a toothless balding man Yesterday's wedding bells sound like the funeral march playing on repeat
By Marilyn Gloverabout a year ago in Poets
Gambling Man
He pensively sat at his desk with a quill pen and tub of dark ink, Holding the feather in his withered hand helped him to think.
By Shirley Belkabout a year ago in Poets
Silent Descent
We are all fading slowly, Wandering in our own circles, Not treading on unfamiliar paths, Not speaking to a stranger, Not sharing the whispers of our hearts.
By Abdullah Khanabout a year ago in Poets
Unmanageable Separation
my mind and my body, for some reason, have come to split‐ the former always lost, on tangent after tangent and the latter
By Josh Morganabout a year ago in Poets