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All I seem to remember
Are the hollow eyes
Peeking from behind damp walls
Walls dripping with misery and the cold winters day
In a land where no flowers break through the heavy clay
Even though they try their best
The beast always catches them at the stem
Tears the blossoms out in calm rage
The feeling sold by its empty eyes
Like a useless spy
Wandering the streets sick with smoke
And liquor

Under starfull skies
Praying to God for a comet
To yell my wish at:
“Oh,to be more than just a clump of cells and flesh and bones
Patching together my soul
Creating something mine
The only thing I can call so“
Because I know each breach carved with the steady occupation
I could lead your hands into the gaps dug by
My litospheric plates moving
                                                   shifting
                                                                colliding
Far too soon

Now I have forests and mountain ranges
Peeking out of my veins
Spreading the dark ecosystem of my mind
I can feel the frost and the gloom biting trough my skin
The fog covering my every inch

Fangs dangerously close to bones
The only part clean of the parasites
Unlike my tunnel-disrupted skin
The penetrated veins sticking out of it

Slowly decaying away
While my heart fills my leaking body with new blood
Sisyphean effort
The life that goes to waste
But stains the flesh a vibrant red
My half-alive corpse
The only thing radiant on this grey lifeless street

The monster slowly kneels down to my side
Pierces its talon through my bone
Sells me to death
Leaves my core to rot
Defeating its defences like an unknown weapon
Injecting terror into the cold white stuff tangled around my heart
                                                                                     stuck around my veins

It sets me onto fire
Letting its own creation burn
For the sake of its pleasures
As the luscious woods burn to just skeletons and dust
The hollow eyes filling with the shadows of the light
As it snarls
A twisted caricature of a smile
Boris Cho Nov 10
Many of my struggles stem not from external forces but from within, from patterns of self-sabotage that I once thought were beyond my control. It’s recently become very clear to me that these moments of inner resistance I have struggled with, these times when I seem to work against my own best interests, are not random. They are my mind and body’s way of protecting me from what feels unfamiliar or too overwhelming to face.

Personal growth, I’ve come to realize, has demanded not only patience but also the courage to confront these barriers inside of me. The obstacles I encounter aren’t meant to be avoided or fought. Rather, they are reminders that within every challenge, there’s an invitation to dig deeper, to look at my doubts, anxieties, and limiting beliefs, and to dismantle them.

This journey of mine is about mastering myself, not in the sense of becoming perfect, but in learning to be compassionate with my flaws, understanding where they come from, and allowing the proper space for my own evolution. I’ve learned that healing and progress come when I stop seeing my emotions as problems to fix and begin seeing them as messages guiding me toward what I truly need.

The transformation comes in the shift from self-sabotage to self-mastery. It requires me to take responsibility, to recognize that I am both the source of my struggles and the architect of my liberation. With this awareness, I can start to rebuild, step by step, by accepting where I am, forgiving myself for past mistakes, and slowly reorienting my life toward what truly aligns with my purpose. Mastery is not control; it is surrender to personal growth.



I am the mountain I must climb,
The stone I stumble on is mine.
Not to resist, but to take place,
The path ahead, I must face.

The fear I feel, the doubt I bear,
Are voices calling for self-repair.
In every challenge, a chance to rise,
To meet the truth behind disguise.

The road is long, the path I’ll clear,
With every step I dissolve the fear.
For in each wound, I heal and grow,
My heart learns what the mind can’t know.

— Sincerely, Boris
Jasmine Rose Nov 6
Open up my wounds
Drench me in my sorrow

With every waking day,
hand me another pill too hard to swallow

It gives me thrill
A taste of a dark state of bliss

For who can resist
another opportunity to wallow?

My very own mind made misery
A haven from the first sign of glee

Take me there
so I can go nowhere

Lock me in
the sanctuary under my skin.
Sometimes we self-sabotage simply because we enjoy a good pity party
silvervi Oct 1
Hah
As I am understanding myself more and more
I am watching

My suffering,
Wanting to grasp its core.

Tons of shame and of blame.

My little self somewhere underneath
Trying to breath.

Every day when it's time to meditate
I allow my pain to rise.

Every time I'm hoping to arrive
At some deep new revelation.

But it looks as though
There is no final destination.

Looking at how I'm looking at myself.
Am I wasting my time?
There's nothing to see
Apart from Me and Me and Me.

Self-loathing, then holding myself close.
Because I remember to breath and to pause.
Because I remember about compassion.
But still, this process is much work.

I wish things were easier, lighter,
I wish I'd knew what I want to fight for,
I wish I'd understood my relationships better,
I wish I wouldn't blame myself for everything including weather...

I wish. I wish. I wish.

The hardest part is to let go,
Whatever that means.
It's as unsatisfying
As this poem's ending.
It's kind of frustrating sometimes. All we want is to feel good.
Aspen Winters Aug 26
i've been at rest since yesterday,
tending to my detriment.
rest assured, i'm festering
in liminal imprisonment;
discontent and reticent
yet again.
I drive the screwdriver through my own heart and
Stuff the open wound with my fist and
Swaddle myself in threadbare cloth and
Get to work,
Gathering up the pins to
Try and stitch my skin back together again.
worse, each time
tryhard Dec 2023
i have the terrible gift of foresight
seeing the future before it happens
the ability to bend time
when i look closely in the mirror

you know what they always say
'with great power, comes great responsibility'
but my power is destructive
i have already built ruins
before the foundation is laid

it is a terrible habit
sneaking glances at the ending
i would have gone blind
stopping everything from changing

hindsight offers no comfort
when i already know the end
i've seen it myself
because i played a hand in it
quick poem because can't sleep
Chelsea Quigley Nov 2023
These little monsters
Follow me around.
I need to run,
Outrun them now.

They run miles,
But never slow down.
Living in my head
Until I am dead.

Shall they follow me
To the grave?
Six feet under,
But there they lay.

Would they
Still have life,
If I am to die?
Would they still speak whispers
Into my mind?

For they are infested
Into mine.

But what am I thinking?
My enemy is me.
I am unkind to myself,
Left my senses to flee.

They are just a small
Depiction of myself.

For I am not them,
Nor anyone else.
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