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Sometimes, I fear my depression will win
But then I pick up the pen
And all my problems disperse
I'm writing scriptures,
You'd think the lines
Were birthed in a church
But I'm cursed
I'm not sure if those words have worth
And that's a scary confession
But this isn't a verse
It's a frickin' therapy session
I'm finally learning my lesson
I'm finally calling for help
This is probably the most vulnerable
That I've ever felt.
Searching for a sign
We just play the cards that we're dealt
And yeah, I know that there are times
You wish you were someone else
But you see, inside my mind,
I think you're perfect as yourself
Enrichment of the soul
Is the highest form of wealth
So rest now, my love
All that stress is bad for your health
I performed this piece on social media a few months ago. I wasn't sure if I still liked it, but I thought I'd share it with you all in the HP community.

"Rest now" can be viewed as a conversation between a woeful person (the author) and their console (whether that be a friend, a therapist, the page, or themselves) that discusses the inner anxieties of someone who's putting themselves out there [in their career, or whatever it may be] for the first time.

The counselor reminds the author that they are exactly who they are meant to be and need not stress about anything.
Am I alone?
Is this Earth my prison to roam?
Is there something to me
That's corrupted to the bone?
Am I alone?
Will this house ever become a home?
It's hard to have faith,
When hatred is all I've known
Maybe I spoiled all the kindness I was shown
Buried in soil, now a flower's finally grown
Am I alone?
Is my fate truly written in stone?
It's a silent night in the Twilight Zone
And yet, I still fight with all the life in my bones
Before I meet the Father by his heavenly throne

Am I alone?
Are these crimes mine to atone?
They say you only reap the fruits
Of the seeds you've sown
Maybe I spoiled all the kindness I was shown
Buried in soil, now a flower's finally grown
Am I alone?
Will this house ever become a home?
I'm starting to lose faith,
While I'm waiting by the phone
Am I alone?
Is my fate truly written in stone?
It's a silent night in the Twilight Zone
And yet, I still fight with all the life in my bones
Before I meet the Father by his heavenly throne
Let it be known.
One my more renowned pieces. See me perform it on TikTok or Instagram @ Key.the.creative
  Jan 31 Key the Creative
badwords
Stained are teeth, and fingers yellow,
Softly whispered lies we keep.
Smoke unfurls in breath so mellow,
Promising but sinking deep.

Coiling tendrils, soft and clever,
Lull the mind in fleeting grace.
Cinder ghosts that warm, yet sever,
Leave their embers on the face.

Every spark—a pledge unwinding,
Every drag—a weight we bear.
Sworn to comfort, yet confining,
Clinging to a thinning air.
Nicotine is a tightly structured, lyrical poem that explores the tension between fleeting comforts and the greater aspirations we often neglect. Using nicotine as both a literal and metaphorical device, the poem examines the small indulgences we cling to—despite knowing their cost—drawing a parallel to the broader human tendency to accept self-deception for the sake of temporary relief.

Through vivid imagery of smoke, stained fingers, and fading embers, the poem evokes a sense of quiet resignation, underscoring the slow erosion of will beneath a comforting but insidious habit. The rhythmic AB meter reinforces the hypnotic cycle of desire and consequence, mirroring the way these comforts lull us into complacency.

At its core, Nicotine is a confrontation—a mirror held up to our daily rationalizations, asking whether we truly seek change or merely the illusion of control. The introspective tone invites readers to reflect on their own vices, however small, and consider what they may be sacrificing in the name of fleeting ease.
Let go of that photo,
For that's not who you are.
It is merely a frame of time
But you are timeless.
I know time hasn't always
shown you kindness,
But let go of that hurt
For that's not who you are.
Those scars don't describe
What's underneath the skin
To discover who you are,

You need only look within.
A little light blank verse that I hope acts as a catalyst for those who need to let go or move on.
You must be drunk or high
If you think that you're the guy
Who's going to change this world
With a poetry supply. So why even try?
A couple of sly rhymes and a clever word
scheme won't mean a thing when you die.

So, throw that to the side
and allow me to guide you. Back to the carousel,
Go ahead, take a ride. Those feelings will subside
Once I've got you back inside. You might as well have fun
'cause you can run, but you can't hide.

There's not a single space
Where I can't find your face
And when you try to elevate,
I'll put you right back in your place
So don't make the mistake
Of trying to take a leap of faith
Cause we'll be here again
But, by then, it's too late

You'll wind up a disgrace
And make your poor mom sob.
You'll lose that one shot at that cozy office job.
You'll still feel alone, and you'll still feel worthless
And all this disturbance because you think
you have a purpose? All this to be a servant
for people who don't want service?

You must be **** determined
to make a fool of yourself, but don't worry
It's all cool; that's why I'm here to help
So, just follow my directions and stay
the planned route 'cause you'll get chopped down
If you try to stand out, and your words don't matter
So just shut your **** mouth!

...Listen to my voice, and this will all pan out.
C'mon, have I ever let you down?
You know who I am. I am doubt.
If I move my feet just right
You'll think I know how to dance
Hit the right note, at the right time
And you'll claim I can sing
And on occasion I'll be so sincere
That you'll think I know how to love
When it's all just a desperate attempt
To hide my ineptitude
A short and light poem

— The End —