Mental Health
Blood on My Praying Hands. Content Warning.
And that was the last time you ever saw me. It took me hours to get home on that day. Determined, and exhausted due to the complete absence of sleep over the previous three days. I found no luck in getting any rest at the train tracks the night before. The mosquitos at my skin kept me awake despite my efforts to dig my face into my backpack or to pull my sleeves over my fingers. Peace and security had far left this terror of reality I was existing in.
By Jacob Navarrete2 months ago in Poets
It is Time to Stop Being a Saint
At 35, it's time to stop playing the saint; stop feeding everyone. I gave you a bottle of water in the desert. When we got to the city, you bought me a bottle, claiming we were even. This is the harsh reality of human nature.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing2 months ago in Poets
