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Pain has terrorized me for an eternity.

Creator,
I have cried immensely
I prostrate myself before you
long ago, I believed I had submitted
though, apparently
submission befalls me this moment.

How much stronger has my torment become
over a period of many moons now
I can suddenly comprehend the wailing proclamations of dying men
their spirits suddenly snatched from the comforts of their varying delights.
The knowledge is contained within physical flesh
yes, contributing to the composition of memories – cognition
still, those memories are compiled inside of cerebral creases – tissue.
The same portions of knowledge are stored
composing the affectionate and turbulent strings
bonds that serve, only, to tether individuals intimately to one another.

I can now feel, with precision, the agony of broken hearts
continuously trampled upon
or existing underneath the feet of fiends of malicious intent.

Oh,

how they play with the heart
kisses and hugs that deceive my soul
ensnaring my innocence inside of their selfish glee.
Shallow beast!
Who hath no capacity to love
instead,
an endless pit of torment where her heart should be.

An addition of stress
I labored under the collective scheme of those who absconded with my children
such an action that triggered my mental and emotional faculties negatively
a most sinister pain.

Was there something,
at my birth,
that you, the creator, should have explained?
I, youth, grand descendant of the emperor Sundiata Keita
my mature life reflective to that of the biblical Job.
Did you, Elohim the creator, devise my life to experience and endure pain?
The strain upon my spirit loomed heavily
supreme, because of the glass smoke I consistently ingested.
Ultimately, there presented the dematerialization of my personalization.

So, according to those facts of life
it ceases me to promote any wonder of how my life has gestated my hatred
which was emboldened by the thieves of my seeds
prompted by a harbinger of toxic unifications – a devil sent to sever my loving patience.

Creator,
lo,
I gripe because my distress is great
the foundation – that night that my initial hero was slain
unbeknownst to I that night would become the prelude to my life’s testimony.
I have, since, stared into the eyes of men, who presumably, re-enacted my fate -
lonely
eternally heartbroken
so they rejected to engage human compassion
hermits
components of communities comprised of other outcasts
a kingdom of vast distances between denizens
bleak.

Creator, lo
I am soon to quiet my grievances.
I do appreciate that you awaken me and guide me into new days
but, I must ask, still,
why am I to persist in enduring a pain so pure?

Down there,
in the depths of my chest,
my heart contemplates fear and abandonment
my tears remain the testament of my citizenship
the captive of an emotional void composed of a morbidly horrendous uncertainty
they are poised to terminate and bury me.

Creator,
if I collapse of a broken heart before the eyes of them all,
will you carry me?
Yet,
also,
and still,
if I expire alone
my breath ceasing, in the absence of all,
in my solitude,
will you cover me?
Àŧùl Dec 2024
Atul Subhash, I empathise with you,
This modern age is evil.

Your wife behaved narcissistically,
The judge behaved more so.

I can understand your situation,
And you're a lesson, an inspiration.

I won't ever get married, brother,
For I fear divorce, yes, I do.

Instead of getting married,
I'd rather get a cat, yes, a cat.

As for my monies, oh the dust,
I'll donate it all to a cause.

Animal welfare,
Medical research.

Somewhere useful,
But not in a marriage.
I hope that I'll be luckier.

My HP Poem #2034
©Atul Kaushal
Nick Moore Dec 2024
I woke to find
Everything packed away—
Carpets rolled up,
Bare floorboards
Revealed for the first time.

No one around,
My footsteps made
A strange
Sound

Then Gran came in.
"Your mummy and daddy
Aren't getting along."
This truth,
I learned too late,
Kept from me
Until this morning.

A day my mind
Will never forget,
A secret now
Unfolded.

We traveled to the new town,
My face
Wore
A
Frown.

The door slammed shut
Too quickly,
A bad case
Of homesickness.
What was severed
Now crystallized.

Now,
I never fail
To remember
Every
Detail.
SomebodyProbably Dec 2024
She gave me her keys and I drove her insane
Its no wonder she took the car and changed her name
Now I'm taking busses and hailing cabs with no destination in mind
Wishing I could just go home to you.
Man I do not enjoy being alive right now
Boris Cho Nov 2024
Trust is a fragile thing, and I learned this through the bruises of past relationships. Boundaries were a concept I didn’t recognize, let alone embrace. Throughout my childhood and young adult life, I hadn’t seen trust protected by boundaries; instead, it felt conditional, something that could vanish the moment I made a mistake.

Growing up in a home where my voice was often drowned out, where the lines between safety and fear blurred, I never learned that I had the right to set limits or protect my own space. As a child, I lived in an environment where mistakes felt unforgivable, with my needs and wants taking a back seat to keeping peace or avoiding conflict. That pattern followed me, undetected, into adulthood.

In my past marriage, trust was twisted into something transactional; I gave and gave, bending to make things work, hoping that in sacrificing my needs, I’d somehow earn security. But trust erodes quickly when there’s no boundary to protect it, and by the time we reached the end, it was shattered, scattered in pieces I could barely recognize. Throughout the entire 14-year relationship with my ex-wife, I unknowingly carried the absence of boundaries with me. I tried to be everything I thought a husband and father should be, pouring every ounce of myself into a relationship that quietly depleted me, while she dictated our lives to the smallest detail, and often used them against me. My needs vanished under layers of compromise and concession. Over time, I realized I wasn’t in love with her, but instead tethered by an obligation to uphold the image of a “good husband.”

Boundaries felt selfish; they seemed like walls I wasn’t allowed to build, even as my own well being deteriorated. I had buried my true self beneath the weight of expectations and silent suffering. It took years to realize how damaging that was and how necessary it is to set limits that honor one’s own dignity. After my divorce, I thought love alone would be enough to hold onto trust, but I soon saw how easily trust can be chipped away without boundaries to frame it. It taught me that when boundaries aren’t respected, trust withers, leaving behind only doubt and regret.

I realize now, boundaries are the silent guardians of trust. They keep it intact, protected from the misunderstandings that come when needs go unspoken. When I set boundaries, I’m not only safeguarding my well-being but also inviting others to respect my trust by respecting my limits. Learning to set boundaries has been, in many ways, a journey in rebuilding trust and that boundaries are an act of self-respect. They aren’t barriers to keep people out, but lines that protect the best of who we are. I came to see that in order to show up as a healthy, present father, as a friend, as a partner, and as the person I strive to be, I need to safeguard my energy and my emotional space. Learning to set limits; to tell others where I end and they begin; has been a transformative act of reclaiming myself. I understand now that boundaries are not selfish; they are a declaration of self-worth. I had to understand that without boundaries, trust has no foundation; it’s a vulnerable thing that requires support to stand on my own and they’re about creating a safe space where trust can grow slowly, steadily, and with integrity.

I have come to learn that when I honor my boundaries, I’m rebuilding the foundation of trust in myself. This trust is precious; it’s the belief that I won’t betray my own needs for someone else’s comfort. They’re a promise to myself that I will no longer give away pieces of my peace. And when others respect my boundaries, they earn something rare and valuable; a trust that, this time, feels solid enough to last.

Through my experience, I’ve come to carry three powerful truths about boundaries. First, they are non-negotiable. For too long, I made my needs flexible, prioritizing others over myself. Now, boundaries allow me to define who I am, uncompromisingly. Second, they empower us to say no without guilt or apology. Each ‘no’ is a way of saying ‘yes’ to the life and relationships I deserve. And finally, boundaries are how we honor ourselves and teach others to do the same. They are my compass, helping me navigate life with dignity, pride, and authenticity.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Breaking the patterns of a lifetime can feel like tearing down and rebuilding a house from its foundations. But I’ve learned that setting boundaries isn’t about anger or resentment; it’s about clarity, growth, and love; for myself, for my daughter, and for the relationships I wish to nurture moving forward.



Once there was a quiet garden,
filled with colors bright and wild.
It grew best when lines were honored;
a space for each root, each petal, each stem.

For a time, no borders stood,
and flowers tangled, starved for sun,
their colors dulled, their strength pulled thin,
as vines of one drained life from within.

So a gardener placed small stones around,
not walls, but paths for each to grow;
a space to bloom, freely and alone,
to lift their heads, to stretch and know.

In tending gently to each line,
the garden thrived, each flower freed,
and side by side, they grew in kind,
a beauty held by roots, not need.

Boundaries gave them life that way,
together, yet strong, every day.

— Sincerely, Boris
Boris Cho Nov 2024
For 14 years, I carried the burden of a relationship that, in its quiet cruelty, convinced me I was unworthy; a terrible husband, an inattentive father, a poor friend. Gaslit into self-doubt, I was made to believe that my flaws were responsible for the chaos. Yet, in truth, I was supporting a person who had every opportunity to stand on her own, but chose instead to lean into a narrative that kept her dependent and me in a cycle of sacrifice.

I was misled, tricked into doubting my loyalty as a friend, while I poured my best self into those I loved, calling them family. I was told I was failing as a father because I worked hard to provide, even though I always gave my daughter the fullness of my time and care, from reading bedtime stories to cooking meals and being present in the moments that truly mattered. Meanwhile, the person I shared my life with had next to no friends, no passions, no sense of fulfillment beyond the image she presented to the world.

The resentment I held onto was not born from singular events but from the accumulation of years spent sleeping on couches and floors, excluded from intimacy, and trapped in a performance of a marriage that lacked love. I poured time, money, and energy into preserving a façade that was never real. This false perception; of her, of us; was a thief that robbed me of my peace.

Letting go of this resentment does not mean I dismiss the past, but it does mean I reclaim the part of me that was buried beneath it. I must understand that control is often an illusion; the more I clung to the idea that I could change the outcome, the more I suffered. True freedom lies in accepting that life, and the people in it, are unpredictable. I cannot change who she was or how she treated me, but I can choose how I respond now.

Forgiveness, too, is not for her; it is a gift I give to myself. To hold onto anger, to nurture resentment, is to keep myself in chains long after the relationship has ended. I release that weight because my healing demands it, and my future deserves it.

As I look toward the future, I must embrace the present. The past, though painful, is no longer my prison; it is a foundation, a set of lessons that have fortified my resilience. My life now is a canvas I will fill with intention and authenticity, building upon the wisdom gained from the trials I’ve endured.

I have come to understand that letting go is not merely an act of forgetting, but a deliberate choice to free myself from the grip of the past, releasing the emotional weight that has bound me for too long. It requires an intimate confrontation with pain; not in the form of denial or suppression; but in a way that allows me to honor what has shaped me without letting it define the man I am becoming.

The art of letting go, then, is not about erasing what has been, but about stepping into what is to come; with grace, peace, and open arms.



In a marriage built on illusions,
I lost pieces of myself,
Fighting to fit into a mold
That never reflected my truth.

Each sacrifice, a silent echo,
A yearning for connection
In a world of empty gestures.

Years passed, buried in doubt,
While destroying my spirit.
Until I knew it was time to leave,
To reclaim the life that I deserve.

With every step away from that past,
I peeled back the layers of shame,
Finding strength in my vulnerability,
And a voice that had long been hushed.

Now, I walk a path that is my own,
Embracing the unknown with open arms,
Each day a chance to rebuild,
To honor the lessons learned,
And to celebrate the man I am destined to be.

No longer defined by what I lost,
I stand in the warmth of possibility,
With a heart ready to heal,
And a spirit renewed,
Ready to live fully,
In the truth of my own story.

— Sincerely, Boris
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