Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
It pains my soul
When one takes their life
A perminent solution
To their struggles and strife

They have no answers
Have no hope
To ease their pain
And be able to cope

Like the rest of us
That struggle along
We're not unique
Or especially strong

See we just do the best
We can day to day
Believing that our problems
Will soon go away

So when one kills themself
Who's to blame
I think everyone
Cause we're all much the same

We need to look out
For those who hurt
Listen more
And be more alert

So open your hearts
Open your ears
To those you know
And treat them dear

For suicide is serious
Beyond recourse
Yet afterward
There's so much remorse
Alex Feb 8
He picks at the scabs he put on himself
The scabs that were caused by something shiny and small
I got it from art class. Isn't that crazy? I got something from art class to put permanent art on myself…. My own skin.
He makes empty promises and lies to his loved ones
“I'm clean!!”
“I promise it won't happen again”
“Its been 3 months since I cut!”
Lies. their all lies, empty promises
He watches the blood appear as the blade goes across his wrist
The wrist he once drew on with markers
the wrist that is now covered in scars..
now something you cant unfix
Ken Pepiton Feb 6
If you will, I do presume, as I know my medium,
I am not set cold lead type read backwards
by printer's daemons,
for centuries,
naturally,
to you, words, ready
for many readers,
at once,
at a rally, all receive fliers, and tracts,
-- who and how was paper made back when
the noblest institutions of high order master
hereditary right, the nation owns any born
on American soil, I knew a guy from Nogales,
he got drafted same day as me, he was a citizen

and all who spread the message attested to, see
it's true, I drank the generic flavored water, see

Only my misgivings have been taken up,
into considerate response
to my insistance, art

does good when used
to hope with, made hopefully,
easy to copy and paste and think
today I intended to enjoy my case, true
that is what we call worth-ship, true rest, worth made
art with patience
be, worthy upon reexamination, dailies, marking time
minutes or days
worth the price, being paid
for me, I laugh and recall,

Sgt. John Whykill,
to ask him, would he mind, recollection
he died last year, around now,
he laughs
of course not, why would he, we agreed,
in the spirit,
noblest occupation is  bagging peace seeds,
any thing we find first peaceable, first touch feels good,

blessed silly so good sometimes, submersion, getting there,
just pretend
peace
clear, I did not hear, but sometimes,
I can remember hearing some body imagine,

seeing a rainbow clad entity conceived sorta like us,
feminine angelic spirit being, all visuals are imagined

I never have forgotten some thing I learned,
from a man confined to a VA hospital
in Miami, I miss him, then I think

we had all our best moments laughing.

We got to the bottom of it all.
Being old and unaccountable to any, by circumstance, I try to act free...
bottom line, dead men do not pay debts, so all the war debt's paid.
Any child told nothing but the truth can unbelieve war wise, done by anyone.
do you love me Bipolar –
My heart is in a bit of disorder;
ordering my emotions, suspended by
the winds blowing me into my
Mood swings.

Does loving me sometimes feel
too irrational – do I
give you a sense of Phobia; I
cannot Lie; I have

thanatophobia

and the someone I love,
that I fear losing - in All honesty,
is losing myself to Love…
Steve Page Feb 6
No mind left behind
No-one left deprived
Of love and joy and song
And knowing we belong
See mind.org.uk for more information. It's time to talk.
Repentant Feb 4
You strike a matchstick
and name it hope—
watch the flame gnaw
its own tail, a hungry ouroboros.

Your hands tremble like cities
under siege.
The skyline cracks, a porcelain plate
held together by spider silk.

We are all archaeologists here,
digging through ash
for the bones of who we swore
we’d become.

Some nights, the moon is a pill
that won’t dissolve.
You swallow it anyway,
let its cold light pool in your ribs.

The world is a fever dream,
but listen—
even wildfires leave behind
soil thick with tomorrow.

So let your heart be a dandelion:
ugly, stubborn,
and impossibly
easy to love.
Inspiration: Combines existential urgency (a "burning world") with intimate resilience, blending natural imagery and mental health metaphors. The poem mirrors modern anxieties but leans into hope as an act of defiance.

Key Elements:

Ouroboros metaphor: The flame eating itself reflects cycles of destruction/rebirth and self-sabotage.

Urban decay vs. nature: "Cities under siege" and "porcelain plate" contrast with organic imagery (dandelions, wildfires).

Medicalization of coping: The moon as an undissolved pill critiques how society medicates existential pain.

Archaeology of self: Digging through "ash" to find lost versions of identity.

Dandelion symbolism: Represents overlooked strength and the beauty of persistence.

Structure: Free verse with short, punchy stanzas. Enjambment creates urgency, while the final quatrain offers a resolving, mantra-like closure.
All the words
that never left my mouth
creep through my veins
filling the hollows of my mind
and my lungs with stone
encasing the very essence of me
in lead

weighing me down
as the murky depths
of a world
that never knew
I was drowning
beckons
Kaylee Wilson Jan 31
It doesn’t take much

One sad song
    one not even meant to be sad
One bittersweet moment
    one not meant to linger
One small fragment of a feeling
    one that I meant to let go

I don’t want to keep it
I never looked for it
I never sought it out
    it doesn’t care
I do everything I can to avoid it
    it doesn’t care
T.v, music, books
    it doesn’t care

Hours of nothing
Just to make it leave
    if only for a moment
I avoid, distract, ignore
Hoping that if I can make it feel forgotten it will be
    that it will leave

It doesn’t care
    it doesn’t go away
Instead it creeps closer
    it touches my chest
And sinks deeper

That’s where it stays

So heavy that I can’t feel anything else
    can’t focus on what I know is there but can’t find

My mind doesn’t understand it
Doesn’t understand how it can affect everything
Keep my eyes from seeing everything else
    everything that’s important
    and should feel that way
Doesn’t understand how it can change what I remember
    add a lens through which I can only see it where it wasn’t before

It wasn’t always there
    was it?

All the while it hasn’t made a sound
    it doesn’t need to make a noise
    for it to be so loud that it’s all I can hear
It doesn’t take much
Next page