For years I fought something only I could see,
A battlefield etched in the silence of me.
The foe was mine, yet I could not yield,
A fight contained in an unmarked field.

I clashed with shadows that wore my face,
Each strike within left a deeper trace.
Fighting hard just to stand or breathe,
A battleground I couldn’t command or leave.

But time wore thin, the noise fell still,
The air grew thick, the ground unfilled.
No victor crowned, no flag was claimed,
Just ruined trenches and a captive unchained.

Not quite peace, but free from pain,
A quiet place where hope’s restrained.
No joy to chase but tears is no more,
Just steady breathing — after the war.

Sitting in that venue something clicked
Sitting in this dark living room watching videos and silently crying to myself while my cat drinks water from his fountain it clicked
I am not ok something in my brain has shifted
These thoughts scream out
Wanting to be tangible
My nails wanting to leave marks on my back
I need help
But every time I’ve reached out
I’m been cast aside
My doctor
Canceled my appointment citing I need a psych
Which I already have
My psych never answers
I try to hold in my pain but I am afraid how much longer I can
I feel like a younger version of myself has emerged once again

I wake—
and the train fires up.
The first thought goes into the furnace.
Then another.
And another.

The fire swells.
The wheels bite.
The carriage shudders.
We’re moving.

I’m stoking without trying—
every thought is fuel.
Good, bad, doesn’t matter—
the fire eats it all.

Smoke pours in—thick, black,
like a pit on a winter’s night.
The thoughts are starting to choke,
curling and crowding,
filling the air until I can hardly breathe.
I cough. I choke.
Still, the train hurtles on.

No signal. No brakes.
It doesn’t even need a track.
The faster it goes, the heavier the smoke.
I’m as still
as the hands of an unwound clock.

I want to jump.
I want to make it stop.
But the thoughts keep coming.
The furnace roars.
The wheels scream.

And then—
through the haze—
a figure.

She sits beside me.
Takes my hand.
Her voice—soft, but certain—
“It will be all right.”

The fire falters.
The smoke thins.

She leans close,
reminding me of the first time I saw her—
she was the only one I could see,
the only noise I could hear,
the only thing I wanted to breathe.

The train slows.
I can see her face—
just as beautiful as that first night.

I breathe deep,
clearing the air from my lungs,
feeling the wheels ease beneath me.

She stands, still holding my hand.
“Let’s get off this train,” she says.
“You’ve stopped it.
And if the fire starts again—
remember the things that made the world stop:
the first time we met,
the first breath of our son,
a golden sunset,
the monsoon rain.”

The train is always there,
its furnace door open.
But now—
I know how to walk away.
Where the air is clear.
Where her hand is in mine.

when you look in the mirror and see no one.
when everything happens on autopilot.
when your best friends are your room and your bed.
when everyone is happy and you’re the only sad one in the room.
when you’re startled by the thought that life is no longer worth living.
when you’re already cutting yourself just to feel anything but the pain.

Oh Mother

A couple hundred pairs
Of pupils watch me walk
Every now and then.

The look of pitiness follows
Through their minds,
As if I’m an alien
Roaming around in the
Humankind.

Oh mother,
Why do they stare at me
When all I do is try to live
In the body that was
Given to me as I stood
In life’s entry line?

Oh mother,
When I look up
Into those eyes of mine,
All I can notice is
The hatred I buried inside

Enough to capture my territory
And mark it as disabled
On the south pole of my brain,
Which was, till date,
My biggest worry.

Oh mother,
Could you please hurry?
I’m losing the war
And in desperate need
Of somebody.

Tasmay

I want to break free
From these ***** chains.
My mind’s been caged for a while—
Silently, I suffer.

Unlimited freedom
Led me to the trenches of addiction.
I just want to feel alive again,
To quit this, forever,
And reclaim my mental peace.

I was so young barley double digits
All I needed was a hug
To be told everything would be ok
Nothing seemed ok
I was changing
Everyone was changing
I stopped worrying about if my bike tires had air
Instead I started worrying about my hair
Why were people staring
I worried about what was wrong with me
Why was I like this
too loud
Too sensitive
Too different
I needed a hug
But I picked up the blade
I need to feel something
I wanted the pain
I was 10 when the lines began
I was just a child
Barley double digits
Who reached for the blade
Instead of reaching for some help

I only feel normal when I’m by myself, adding 1 person and out comes the stress.

I don’t feel it’s right or fair to be this way for the ones I love and care.

I replay our recent times in the front of my mind only to feel like I let them down.

I try to plan ahead pretending I can turn these self-defense mechanisms off.

My wife deserves me at my best, my love deserves to experience the same man that exists alone.

My children deserve to witness and receive an unconditional love without past grief.

My family is my rock and stone, my family that reside within our home.

My wife so strong she fills voids before they can become cracks….

Poetry, brain music, exercise, outdoors, notebooks, research, studying and good routines… a few remedies taken the most!!!

Do you remember
The last time you ate ice cream without feeling the need to surrender?
The last time you stepped on a scale
Without the number determining whether you pass or fail?

Do you remember
The last time you truly smiled without it feeling dismembered?
The last time you felt true joy and delight
Without you and your face having a fight?

Do you remember
The last time you got mad and didn’t get yelled at for your “temper?”
When were were young and naive
Without the fear of how you’re perceived?

I doubt it.
But now you find any excuse to jump into the pit.
You constantly spiral,
Not thinking about you’re survival.