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Imad Afdam Sep 10
We are but a string of hopeless strangers,
Trapped in spaces,
Trying to be happy.
Reece Sep 10
Two words were all it took for his world to shatter.
Two words said were enough for him to question if anything mattered.
Uttered so thoughtlessly,
A waste of vocabulary.
Two words were all it took for him to shut down,
Two words whispered in his ear, causing him to frown.
No one cared about his feelings,
Or how those two words could carry a darker meaning.
Two words were all he needed to make a mistake,
Two words meant everything and caused him to break.
Said by someone cruel,
But all it takes is one fool.
Two words repeated in his mind.
Two words dictate what he should leave behind.
Two words hurt him, summoning a pain in his side.
Two words…
We all know what those two words were.
that question,
aimed at someone else,
split me open.

half of these are about you.
but half of them — it’s all me.
the one who isn’t pretty.
the one who isn’t well.

i thought i knew
what the book meant.
i only wanted to hold
something that was mine.
but it grew teeth,
and turned into
a launch party,
a press release,
my words living
in other people’s minds.

all this weight,
kept hidden,
only allowing
my closest friends
to get a glimpse
at the truth behind the veil,
turned into
a doorway i couldn’t close.

have you not read her poetry?

i don’t want to be
polished anymore.

so read it.
it’s all me.
the way it always
should have been.
this one is about a conversation yesterday, that made me realise that the walls between my worlds are thinner than I thought. the fact that my community is starting to glimpse this raw, stripped, layered and honest side... there is a strange exposure in that. like people reading my diary but with my permission, except it still feels… naked.
I sit to write—
no, wait—where was I?
Oh right, the page, the pen, the—
oh, did I feed the dog this morning?
I can’t remember,
but I remember that song I heard last week,
the one with the bassline that sounded like footsteps
on a quiet street at dusk.
I should look it up,
but not now. Not now. Focus.

I try to corral the scatter,
wrestle it into something linear,
but my thoughts sprint off track,
like wild horses too proud to be tamed,
hoofbeats echoing against
the thin walls of my mind.

I hear a whisper of focus,
a fragile, fleeting thing,
but then...
did I pay that bill?
Or was that last week?
The thought derails me,
and suddenly I’m plunging
into twenty different tunnels,
each one darker than the last.

I try to speak,
but the words trip over themselves.
Half a sentence here,
a dangling thought there,
and I wonder if people see
the tangled mess beneath my skin,
if they hear the static,
feel the weight
of a world
moving too fast to grasp.

But sometimes,
in the chaos,
there is brilliance.
A spark, a flicker,
a thread of gold in the storm.
It’s in the moments when my mind leaps,
connecting dots no one else sees—
a kaleidoscope of half-thoughts
somehow finding form.

Still,
the struggle doesn’t end.
It’s hard to explain
what it’s like to live
with a brain that never stops moving,
that stumbles off the rails
just when you need it to stay steady.

But here I am,
sitting again,
lost and found all at once.
I will finish this poem,
or maybe I won’t—
oh, I should clean my desk.
Where was I?
Right.

I sit to write.
This is a poem I wrote to capture what it’s like living with ADHD — at least for me.
ADHD isn’t just about being “hyper” or “distracted” sometimes. It can feel like your mind is constantly sprinting in different directions, even when you desperately want to focus.
Writing this, I wanted to show both the struggle and the strange beauty that can come from a brain that doesn’t move in straight lines.
ADHD is messy, frustrating, and often invisible to other people — but it can also be creative, vibrant, and unexpected.
If you relate, you’re not alone. If you don’t, I hope this gives you a glimpse inside the experience.

Fun fact: This took me like 3.5 months to finish because I kept forgetting about it
Love is the shell of the oyster
The caramel centre
The worrisome weather

Coast coasting shooter
Cyanide chaser
Hand with the feather
That beckons, bats, pressures

Love is a dream without dreamers
The real thing

Love is the magical realm of beauty we wanted to lift...
A waterfall pounding
All streams of past to the place...
Love is everything missed and remade
Shree Pandey Aug 15
They say "I love you,"
But how am I supposed to know when they do and when they don't?
Isn't loving someone
Like the sparkling starry nights,
Like the mama birds returning to their nests with food for their little ones at night,
Like the old man who combs his wife's hair in the daylight,
Like the newborn's attachment to its mother,
Like the flying bird in cold weather,
Determined to find its partner.
Like the buds that grow to be a rose,
To be given to someone to propose.
Like the young couple’s fights and frowns.
How his sadness is hers, and they're each other's everything else.

But how does the love we try to find
Turn into the love we make, and it’s all about it?
Is it just the physical touch,
Or something deeper we can't fake?
Something so unbelievably magical,
Like riding unicorns with glittery wings
Through clouds named nine.

Where I can take him to be mine,
From where he can't leave like all the others did or (like fate forever entwined).
I haven't found him yet, but I will.
And even if I don't,
I have myself to love me still.

But oh, how I’d love to grow old with him,
Watching our little ones run around here and there,
Who are half me and half him.
In the home we create and build it with love.
Talking about the things that made us laugh
While we have no teeth.
Telling the coming generations about the love we had, saying we love each other still.

And when our time has passed,
May our love story be the guiding light—
The answers we searched for in our darkest nights.
A testament to the purest kind.

May they never feel alone, and see
The single thread weaving all around:
The stitches, the patterns it has been making.
The invisible string tying everything together beyond time.

For in the end, it’s not what we find,
But what we nurture inside, deep within our minds.

But how am I supposed to know it’s time
To nurture love for someone who may or may not be mine?
Wrote this on 8/12/2023
Maria Aug 14
What does it mean to be real truly?
May be to get up elsewise each morning?
Or drink my coffee elsewise all the time?
To hush elsewise or sound for something?

To be real… What does it mean truly?
To meet rules, fashion or weather folly?
Or may be befit you? No love, no suffer, no joy,
No tenderness  - all’s a waste as an ice-lolly.

Don’t think about the sea while watching the sunset?
Don’t dream about the forest while listening to birds?
Don’t walk in the rain and don’t drip with wet?
And don’t have any feelings? No afterwords.

No. I decided one day to be real truly.
But I didn’t break myself while making the same.
I continue to walk in the rain, to drink my coffee.
And I will never tell a lie to myself again.
Thank you for reading it! 💖
Jenna Aug 4
The clouds came down from the sky
They rolled over the hills
And decimated cities,
When the derecho came.
I wrote this after viewing footage of a derecho online. I don't remember by who. After doing some research, that particular weather event was catastrophic and extremely damaging, leading to much death and destruction. I think it's important to write about such topics, even if disturbing, so that we do not forget. May the souls of all afflicted, find peace in the wake of disaster.
eliana Aug 3
I want to feel something
Not just the blade upon my arm
I want to love someone
That won’t do me any harm
I don't want to cry anymore
I want more than just my blood on the floor
I want to know more
Than just my tears
I want to reach for something
Not just run from my fears
I want to feel like I’m enough
Am I enough?
I want to enjoy life with no strings attached
I don't want to dread being attacked
I don't want to feel alone anymore
I want to know what I’m living for
I want to end it all
But I’m still scared to fall
I don't want anymore scars
I’m not asking for the stars
I want to be worth anything
I want death to stop calling
I want to be loved
I want to rise above
This pain
I want the lies to stop replaying
I want to stop cutting
I don't want to find myself in the mirror
I want the truth to become clearer
I want to eat and not force myself to throw up
I don't want to grow up
I want to stop skipping meals
I never want anyone to know how it feels
I want him to come back
I want him to leave
I want to be on track
I want to believe
There is anything good about me
I want to stop feeling this self pity
But I’m done
I want to run
Am I good enough?
Am I worthy?
The last word was supposed to be "No" But i removed it because im not sure. My mind tells me no but i feel yes if that makes sense.
Adam Childs Aug 2
Be careful who you trust
Nothing more deadly
Than good intentions
Dipped in blindness
Nothing more dangerous than
Care without wisdom

The evil intent hides within the platitudes of the unaware
It hides like lions
Secretly in long grass
The archetypal wolf
In sheep’s clothing

They prey on your weakness
Their favourite victims
Are the young
The silent assassin
Predators creeping through the night
They Stealthily stalk your soul

The thief slowly strangling you whole
They seek to carve your soul
With knives like butchers
Hidden in friendly gestures

With the soft threads
Of a spider’s lair
They build a sticky prison
Laced with poetic thorn

The worst of all
They ask
Abandoned self
And we will love you more

As weak men
Love to shepherd
The strong
To quench their unconscious jealous

As some people wish to steer your choices
Because you trigger their own
As sme people wish to crush your ambition
Because they buried their own
A conqueror's hidden fear

But let your inner guide shine
Let the Lord God guide us home
To a promised land
Where there's no
Guilt, fear, or shame

As I push back
Not to hate
But to love
Love for self
As my soul whispers
With a silent growl
NO

A deadly stare
That can see into night
I pierce falsehood with soft glare
Not to fright
But to say I am here

Like a leopards spots
The more they rub
The more I shine
As I stand in truth
My real
Authentic self
This poem describes one person's journey through external imposed confusion, manipulation, and presure to reclaiming their authentic self.
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