—a poem for the broken quiet of Hello Poetry
This was meant to be a haven—
ink-stained sanctuary
where silence could bloom into verse,
where hurt could heal
in soft stanzas and shared breath.
But now—
every scroll feels like stepping
through shattered glass.
The comment threads,
once stitched with kindness,
now rip apart at the seams.
Accusations buzz like hornets,
each reply a stinger
piercing deeper into fear.
Names thrown like knives,
defense and damnation
fighting for dominance
in spaces meant for peace.
I see poems
not of love, not of loss,
but of monsters
lurking behind usernames,
of children caught
in digital snares,
of moderators gone silent,
as if safety were a forgotten draft
left unpublished in the void.
I haven’t spoken—
not yet.
But I feel the shadows
pressing against my page,
wondering if one day
they’ll find me,
slip through my poems
with sugary words
and hollow hearts.
What if I mistake poison for praise?
What if I smile at a trap
thinking it’s just another reader
kind enough to care?
I haven’t been touched by it—
yet.
But that doesn’t mean
the fire isn’t creeping closer.
I write in hope,
but I carry worry like watermark—
invisible until held to light.
So I ask,
not just for myself,
but for every young poet
finding their first courage here:
Where are the watchers?
Where is the warning bell?
Who guards the gates
when predators write poetry, too?
I want to believe
this space can be better.
That we are louder than the silence
that lets evil grow.
That we are not just witnesses—
but protectors,
word-warriors
with sharpened pens.
Because poetry should not be
a hunting ground.
And no poem
should end in a wound.
This piece is not meant to call anyone out directly. I’m simply expressing the overwhelming emotions I’ve been carrying while witnessing everything unfolding lately. I just want this space to feel safe — for myself, for younger poets, for everyone who comes here to share their voice. That’s all.