Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
a cursed cycle
the ancestral rite of passage
the last to see the sun
the first to see the fault

and ultimately suffer because of

it's a burden i've put onto my friends
the ones who show me what it would've been like
the opposite of a lonely child

the ones that undo the deafening silence of a pause screen
the ones who let me take a turn without raising their voice

they're the ones who remember what i say
and who i am
can you tell i'm a little mad
Your mind is a waiting garden,
and life will give us seeds,
you can sow beautiful flowers
or you can nurture stubborn weeds.

The choice is yours,
to make in a thoughtful wake,
to tend to the delicate blossoms
or let the brambles overtake.

Water the garden with pride,
with thoughts pure and bright,
tear down any climbing doubts
and give way to the sunlight.

For what you will harvest
depends on what you sow,
your garden will flourish
and wisdom will grow.

So nurture each lesson,
and watch the petals unfurl,
in your garden of growth,
with the beauty of your soul.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Inspired by a wonderful mindfulness quote,
I was unfortunately unable to find the original author to give credit, but here it is in its inspiring glory:

Your mind is a garden.
Your thoughts are the seeds.
You can grow flowers
or you can grow weeds.
I don’t worry how my old clothes  
will look on their new owners at Goodwill.  
They have places to be,  
stories to live  
beyond my closet.  

Still, letting go feels strange.  
I hesitated at the donation bin,  
fingers brushing fabric worn soft  
by years of routine.  
Shirts that carried me through long days,  
pants that held their shape  
even when I didn’t,  
sweaters that wrapped me in warmth  
when I needed comfort.  
Familiar, reliable—  
but clothes, like memories,  
aren’t meant to be hoarded.  

And maybe, I realize,  
I am ready to let them go—  
ready to make space  
for the person I am becoming,  
not just the one I have been.  

Now, my shirts might end up  
on a college kid,  
worn soft from late-night study sessions,  
coffee stains mapping out  
their ambitions.  

My pants could find a new home  
with a dad who needs extra pockets  
for snacks, keys, and crumpled receipts  
from weekends spent chasing his kids.  

A Dolphins t-shirt might land  
in the hands of someone  
who doesn’t even watch football,  
but wears it anyway  
because it fits just right—  
or because aqua and orange  
make them feel bold.  

Some pieces will travel far,  
stuffed into suitcases  
heading toward new cities,  
new jobs, new beginnings.  
Others will stay close,  
worn by someone  
who just needed  
a warm sweater on a cold night.  

I won’t know where they go,  
but I like to think they’ll be loved,  
threadbare in all the best ways,  
living new lives  
I’ll never see.  

And as I walk away,  
hands empty, closet lighter,  
I expect to feel loss—  
but instead, I feel space.  
Room for new stories,  
new routines,  
new warmth—  
not just in fabric,  
but in the quiet that remains.  

Maybe I’ll fill it with something new,  
or maybe I’ll leave it open,  
letting the quiet remind me  
that not everything needs replacing.  
That sometimes,  
emptiness is its own kind of comfort,  
a soft place to grow into something new.
Damocles May 5
Desecrated and shredded
I walk the asphalt collecting the confetti that is my heart,
Hope the celebration landed you in higher spirits
And when the proof catches up to tingling limbs
You fall from your cloud,
To crash back to reality,
You are a horrible human.

Undo the locks,
Release these iron nails,
Keeping the deep dark at its gravely bay
Let my horns rip through flesh
Teeth sharpen into daggers,
Lips blacken like charcoal,
The skin reddens and hardens.

I warned,
With the subtly of a distant storm
Whispers and calmness in words gifted
Hoping you would spare your visage,
Yet you demanded recompense
In tithes, you could not afford,
And now the tide comes.

You once spoke of existence,
How it paralleled your inability to feel past indifference
As if I could ever conceptualize blabbering words
To make sense of the gibberish and absurd
The obscure way the fabrics of reality weave in and out,
Desolately decimating credible certainty
I am unfamiliar with the language
But too acquainted with the scars they leave.

So you sit, afar,
And know that the time wars on
Waning what was left of my sanity,
My life was brevity,
And as brief as it was, this breathing haiku
I know what I wish then I knew….

Hell is real,
And she looks just like you.
This one comes way of thinking about the most toxic relationship I had. i nearly ended it all because of this person. it was a deep, dark time.
Click clack
Sliding of beads
So therapeutic
To see how this became that
What makes up the whole
                           Touch each fraction

No need for equation of form
To find value of one emotion
                               Against a known
Or
Tangents
Or
Ometries
When the only calculus of interest
                                    Is sum of self
Mark Wanless May 2
my mistakes i see
clearly good deeds are empty
why
Mark Wanless May 2
the wisdom of speed
mind is underdown and deep
it tells you listen
Dom May 1
They enter my home,
Cheap suits, bad cologne.

We talk, endlessly
Needing to break for water,
Laughter and short jokes
But the tone never truly shifts.

I hand them the keys
So they can open the doors
Chat histories explored,
Timelines secured,
Screenshots validated

They ask me if I feel threatened,
I protest that while I do the focus should remain on kids
They offer information not yet known,
I take in the aroma of such sweet tea
And drink it down with a knowing nod.

They show me things not yet seen,
And I confirm the rhetoric used to abuse this barely teen.

They thank me for my time,
And I am greeted by another offensive word
Of cheap cologne.

The walls get smaller for a predator
When they become the prey
You can fool yourself into finding Jesus
But the law won't let you get away if you pray

The walls close in on a cyber-stalker
See the news has broken all over the place,
And you took the liberty to threaten me while they were over the shoulder
How do you feel knowing that it's almost over?

The walls are closing in
And the arms are breaking through,
Soon you'll smell the scent of cheap perfume and cologne
And once the dark shadows rip you from your skin
Know that the monster you chase is the one in the mirror
If truly sober, homer, d'oh yourself while tyring to see clearer.

The wheels of justice move slowly.
kisss kiss, the truth has been released, the suited g-men have taken what they need, they are moving onto the next interviewee. Ah the things i KNOW, the things i could say, but why give away spoilers? Its better this way
Next page