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You don’t have to rise like the sun each day—
some mornings, it's enough just to open your eyes,
to sit with the silence,
to feel your heartbeat and whisper, “I’m still here.”

You are not the storm that passed,
nor the ruins it left behind.
You are the seed under the soil,
waiting for the right rain,
the quiet miracle of a soul not giving up.

Let no one shame the pace of your healing.
Let no voice drown out the hush of your trying.
Because surviving is not small.
And breathing, on hard days,
is a kind of bravery the world forgets to praise.

So rest, dreamer.
You don’t need to shine tonight.
You just need to stay—
soft, alive,
and wildly worthy of tomorrow.
You push yourself hard and grind everyday and you are doing great, but sometimes when things are overwhelming you must to take a break.
🔥 There’s a time to roar, and a time to breathe.
You can’t fight every day with your fists in the air. Some days, the boldest thing you can do is sit quietly and say,

> “Not today—but I’ll rise again soon.”
Some things are better off dead
Buried in the ground
The memories stuck in my head
Spiraling around and around

My soul sits in its tomb
My hopes are the coffin it lies in
My inner child is the surrounding gloom
My dreams are the flowers lying on the stone

My trauma make up the walls that surround
My pain is the drawings underground
My soul was buried with the shackles that bind me
I had to bury it all so it would let me breathe

You have to stop looking behind to look ahead
That’s why some things are better off dead
Little bird,
Your cage is not of my making.
Little bird,
I see the weight you carry, silent, unseen.
Little bird,
My hand is open, only if you wish to land.
Little bird,
I promise not to squeeze too tight.
Little bird,
I'd never clip your wings.
Little bird,
I’d never take your sky from you.
Little bird,
Let me build you shelter, not a cage.
Little bird,
I’ll walk beside you, not ahead.
Little bird,
I ask for nothing, only that you know,
Little bird,
You are free, even here with me.
Please break my heart
So I don't have to break yours
I'd rather feel all that pain
Than be the one to make you endure

Please break my heart
So I can leave yours intact
I'd rather be haunted
Than have to hear you react

Please break my heart
So I can live with my decision
I'd rather lose all my tears
Than have tears disrupt your vision

Please break my heart
So I'm not the one serving time
Id rather feel completely caged
Than be the one to commit this crime

Please break my heart
So I can make sure you're OK
I'd rather lose my voice
Than listen to all you might say

This request might seem odd
I ask for you to do the downing
But if we're both stuck in this storm together
I'd rather be the one drowning
i was born wanted but for the wrong reasons
with a mind marked to be ill
thrown into the wilderness of a foreign country
with not even a common language to call home
i am loved but i am placed in the wrong season
built in the summer but living in the cold
by happenstance the unwilling champion
but only of the loser's side
the air i breathe is borrowed but bound for oblivion
it is a consolation that at least to the earth i am a reward
even if i die in my treason of life
i read frankenstein by mary shelley a couple months ago, and the character I related to did not get a happy ending. it left me wondering if that will be my end too
Quiet your mind and you may find
peace in such stillness.
Your life feels like chaos when
the music drowns out any possibility of
silence inside.
How can you even think with lyrics of
mesmerizing dandelions
clanging through your consciousness?
From the left and right
distractions dissect your attention.
Why is it so hard
to turn off the music?
Silence is scary—
a frightening thing to befriend.
Some fear the dark, yet
you fear the quiet.
I wrote this with music at full blast
A shadow lingers, heavy and cold,
Never a story of joy retold.
Tablets lined in a fragile row,
In their silence, what do they know?
Dreams dissolve in a bitter hue,
Emotions dulled, both false and true.
Promises whispered: "You’ll feel whole,"
Relief bottled, sold to the soul.
Every smile feels borrowed, thin,
Shaky hands hide storms within.
Still, we swallow, day by day,
A search for light in skies of gray.
No cure, just balance, a fragile dance,
To numb the ache, one last chance.
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