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Andrew Ewen Mar 2018
Sometimes I wonder if my body can cope.
Analysing everything so thoroughly, as if using a microscope.
Scared if my mind could endure this unbelievable strain.
I felt like I was under so much pressure. I started to question if I was sane?
Scared of how much my mind and body was having to take.
I thought it was only a matter of time, before I would surely break.
Where I was at, I needed help with this.
If I kept heading the way I was going, I would have fallen into the abyss.
I talked to people who had a good understanding.
Who recognised how mental health can be very demanding.
They told me that it can get easier, but it would be a fight.
That with support and help, my future could still be bright.
I needed to know I could get better and that things wouldn't always be black.
That I could regain control and get my life back.
Nathan Smith Jul 2021
One day at a time,
If you stick to that,
Everything will be fine.
If everyone took that pledge,
Your life would be sublime.
Who’s life’s are they talking about anyway?
It Surely isn’t mine!
Anxiety, diabetes, and cancer
My life is already working overtime.
If the bottle was my only problem
I think I’d be fine!
This was my first ever attempt at writing poetry!
From my own life experience
Bobcat Jan 2018
Inhale
Exhale
Your very first
My most important

Your hand
My thumb
You held it so tight
I couldn't hold my tears

8pm
2am
Every night
To make sure you're fed

My side
Her side
You in the middle
Across from your neglected crib

Left foot
Right foot
Your first steps
Corners were quickly covered

Fast forward
Slow down
You're getting so big
I always did my very best

She yelled
I cried
Those three words
You weren't mine

She left
You left
You met your dad
I found vices to cope

Few words
Left unsaid
You're still too young to know
That although not by blood

You were still my son.
Nayana Nair Jan 2018
The trees don’t whisper,
don’t console me with lies
that they have heard too many times.
They tell me that this sorrow won’t go away
atleast not without me.
That there will be days I will look at
the empty chair opposite me
and my coffee would taste of tears.
Days when I would wake up
with a blanket of despair over me.
That I will stop at certain words
and certain names,
and feel too broken in this happy world.
That I would stop taking certain roads.
Stop going to certain places.
So that my ache in my chest
won’t eat me up.
There will be day
when I would have given up
on all that I was.
And sure enough
the sorrow went away,
taking away everything we were.
Sam Dec 2017
I've reached the center of the bridge
Only to find no answers to the questions
Words held hostage
Behind my hopeless lips
I look to you for guidance
But you always fade away
Like the moon before the sun
I tremble slightly
Punching concrete below
Words held hostage
Behind my hopeless lips
Unable to ask
Why you leapt from that overpass
Every time I see you
Tear drops fill my eyes
Every time you see me
Tear drops fill your eyes
The shadow you now are
My knuckles start to bleed
You waltz away again
Words held hostage
Behind my hopeless lips
I drop another rose, and walk away once more
She Writes Nov 2017
Ink floods these pages
Words cause more harm than good
Opening up old wounds
decipher feelings misunderstood

Reminiscing lost love
Analyzing mistakes made
Drowning in past feelings
Remembering all who betrayed

Putting pen to paper
Is my way to cope
Anger, lust, sadness, anxiety
Depression; a slippery *****

I must continue to write
To tear down these walls
Work through my issues
Before death I befall
George Krokos Nov 2017
I'm interested in the prospect of exponential growth
and often wonder how some people are able to cope
when they find themselves in favour with all the hope
of realised dreams in life due to their efforts or oath.

Or where there has been a sudden increase of wealth
such as those we hear of who rise from rags to riches
for there are many true stories told of people's niches
and the way they have acquired a fortune by stealth.
__________
Written in 2017.
V Oct 2017
Behold the man who terrfies with power,
Behold the man who can **** a king with his glower.
All hail the man who has it all,
All hail the man who cannot fall.

Woe to the man who fears judgement day,
He paces and turns the clock off in fear driven rage.
Woe to the man who hides his pills from the other "eyes",
He sits vengeful at his past, masking it with every lie.
Woe to the man who doesn't sleep at night,
For he regrets selling is soul, he doesn't sleep in fright.
Woe to the men who are evil, for deep down they do not know,
Their sickness has overcome them, they aren't aware they are suffering, barely able to crawl.

Behold the one who sees it all,
It is I, the lowly, the injured, the small.
Behold the one with the love for the wolves when the world does not,
I love what the world only wishes to die and rot.
The evil are not born evil, some this truth is no option,
For many, "Go to hell, you deserve no love, you are just a toxcin."
I have grown to love what you consider "wicked",
Despite my life, I am the victim.
I can only love and forgive, no hatred after all these years,
I still pray for them, behind my bruises, scars and tears.

We could both debate, argue and try to pursuade, but I care too much, I will not lie behind hate.
Perhaps a weakness, call me pathetic,
but I was sent to heal the broken,
Even if it makes me just as sick.

Without a cure, how can we heal?
Without a heaven, there is only hell.

I fear the day when I am free,
I fear the day this chord is broken,
Killing them from me.
What will be left is me the murderer,
Me to mourn their decay;
And what will be left is just a dream, a blurr.
A pain I cannot bare to think it,
I cannot stomach that, not even for a bit.

So, woe and behold,
The evil, the sick,
Whom society and the mind is their virus,
A good soul their antibiotic.
Survivor of SRA/CSA and multiple traumas.
To my abusers, whom I could never find it in my heart to harbour hatred and vengence, for doing so would keep me not only prisoner, but blind.
Despite all the pain they have given me and the freedom, innocence, and stabilty I may never have again, I have learned to love and understand their pain deep inside.
What has made them, them today...
What has destroyed them.
I hated seeing that pain.
I have done everything I could to be what I believed "a cure" for their troubled hearts.
Who knows if what I did found them.

It kills me still that I don't feel "sane" without them, as if I killed them by escaping because at one time they said "we were one".
Yes, I still deal with heavy Stockholm Syndrome, but for me, loving and forgiving is what I will never not do.

As said, no one is born evil,
No one is born with a black heart.
I wished society can understand this,
but there is nothing more I can do.

To all surviors of all trauma large or small, May peace, happiness and freedom forever be with you. <3
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