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where is all
the compassion?

the empathy?

oh, humanity—

what a disaster.
left me
dumbstruck.

the world’s
spiraling faster
and faster

into a freefall
of selfishness
and carelessness.

we’re supposed
to move forward—
so why’s everyone
racing back
in time?

do you like
what you’ve become?

do you even
remember
what it’s like
to feel
something?

it’s dumb luck
expecting people
to wake up

when they’re
already dead
inside.

i can’t believe it—
they’re so
hollow.

but i won’t be
the one to follow,
won’t fall
in line.

all it takes
is a little compassion.

a little
understanding.

so next time
you open your mouth—

be kind.
inspired by neck deep’s “dumbstruck dumbf**k.”

a punk-poetic piece on how selfishness, emotional burnout, and apathy are rotting us from the inside out.

mental health awareness starts with compassion—not compliance.
who hurt you
so much now?

get back up
off the ground.

they may have
let you down,

but that doesn't mean
you're down
for the count.

just wait.

give it
a little time—

things happen
for a reason,

and your heart
is aching
for something more.

i know
you’ve been through
a lot.

you’ve tried so hard,
fought to stay afloat—
still breathing
through the weight.

just wait.

lovers come
for a reason,
a season,
or a lifetime.

but seeking
your worth
in someone
who won’t see it

will only leave you
in shambles.

just wait.

the right one
will appear

when you
least expect it.

don’t give up.
you are more
than enough.

just wait.

the right one
will appear—
and they’ll love you
for real.
inspired by slaves’ “i’d rather see your star explode.”

a poem about holding on when you feel unlovable—about choosing to stay soft even when you’re broken.

written for the ones who wait, and the ones learning they’re worth the wait too.
it’s hard
not to feel
withdrawn

when the ones
you love

have crossed
to the other
side.

they’re
never gone,

but it feels
so wrong—

like a song
out of tempo,
out of place.

and you know
nothing can
bring them back,

but still
you do your best
to stay strong.

because life
never stops,

and the ones
you’ve lost

are never
gone.
inspired by mayday parade’s “happy endings are stories that haven’t ended yet.”

written in memory of my mom—gone in body, never in spirit.

this is for anyone trying to carry love through the silence.
it’s never easy
to lose someone
close to you.

it’s never easy
to say goodbye.

broken hearts
can mend,
but there’s a
hole inside—

a place
where your love
used to live.

you feel
like a part
of you
is missing.

you search
for light
at the end
of the tunnel,

but tunnel vision
keeps you stuck,
and still
you try
to rise above it.

losing someone
so close
hurts deeper
than words allow.

and you feel
you’ve been
down on your luck
since the start
of may.

it’s never easy,
and there’s no
easy way
to say this—

but i want
you to know:

it’s okay
to grieve.
it’s okay
to hurt.

because getting
over it
is never easy.

it takes
a strong heart
to heal,

and a stronger soul
to rise again—
to start over,
and live.
written in the wake of heartbreak and loss—after losing my mother and being left days before my birthday.

inspired by mayday parade’s “by the way.”

a reminder that healing doesn’t have a timeline, and strength doesn’t mean silence.
this is for anyone who’s grieving, and still trying to live.
you don’t talk
to me

you make it
hard to see

it takes
two to tango

and i’m tired
of playing
guesswork

that’s got me
all tangled up
and confused.

so when you
showed up

the last time
at my door

and told me
it wasn’t meant
to be

i was certain,
for sure,
that nothing was
wrong.

but you led me
on,

and said it was
only for
your benefit

and nothing more.

now i’m ripping
the pages from this
book

because i’m
just sick of it all,

sick of writing
chapters and

sick of falling
in love.

i don’t wanna
be lonely forever

but if that’s what
it takes to heal,

then i’m so
over it—

and this time,
i want something
real.
inspired by rob thomas’s “lonely no more.”

a breakup poem about letting go of mixed signals and empty promises.
some love stories never begin—because you're meant to write your own.
Joshua Phelps Apr 24
ten years,
too late.

ten years—

and there's
no debate:

i will do
everything

to not be

like you.

i'm no saint,

but i know
when enough
is enough

and to draw
a line,

before it's
too late.

people come
and people go;

and i've come
to terms with
forgiving

and letting
go.

but in the midst of
it all, i hope
to be better

than to
risk it all.

because impressions
are forever,

and

i've learned
to forgive you
and move past it

rather than fall.
some legacies are meant to end. this isn't anger. this is release.
Joshua Phelps Apr 17
baby, don't
misunderstand

internal
struggles
are a mess

all i've got
is hope

that one day,
i'll find solid
ground

so i can return
to myself

and safely land.

return to sender,
i will not surrender;

this postcard is
a testament.

i promise you that
my will is strong,

and i will find
solace and center

because
i didn't make
it this far

to give up
on a future
together,

forever.

so baby, please
understand

internal
struggles
are a mess.

all i've
got is hope

and my word
that one day,

i'll return
to myself

and safely land.
inspired by nsync’s “this i promise you.”

a poem about loving someone deeply—even while fighting to return to yourself.

this is a promise written in the quiet.
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