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Millee Feb 16
the soft pitter-patter of nature's tears echo in my ears. the mist swallows them whole, shielding them from the world.

why do we cry?

because nature does, too.
its despair waters our flowers, its  pain quenches our thirst.

but our tears?

they hurt no one but ourselves. trying so desperately to keep them in.

but there's strength in weakness,

an accomplishment in a failure,

there's peace in loss.
Sara Barrett Feb 14
The walls tremble before the doors do,  
before his voice splits the air like a storm,  
before Mom folds herself into silence,  
before my brother pulls me into the closet,  
his hand firm over my mouth,  
as if my breath could betray us.  
Mom whispers, “It’s okay, go to bed.”  
But I count the slams, the crashes, the cries—  
and wonder if children like me  
ever learn how to sleep.  

I stay because I love them,  
because they need shelter, food, warmth—  
because he wasn’t always this way.  
Because I don’t know how to leave  
with nothing but two small hands gripping mine.  
It’s not always bad. Not always.  
And they need their father.  
Don’t they?  

She won’t leave. She can’t.  
There’s nowhere to go, no money, no lifeline—  
not with two kids and a court that won’t see past him.  
A good man. A working man. A provider.
So I let her cry in the dark, let her call it what it is—hell—  
but tomorrow she’ll still pack lunches and fold clothes.  
She’ll still tuck us in at night. She’ll stay.  
Because that’s what mothers do.  

You don’t leave over a bad temper, do you?  
Men get angry. Women overreact.  
He’s stressed; she should be more patient.  
He works hard; isn’t that enough?  
At least he’s here. At least we have a roof.  
At least the kids have a father.  
At least.

For the kids, she stayed.  
For the kids, I watched and learned:  
that love is sacrifice even when it shatters you;  
that family is loyalty even when it bleeds;  
that silence is safety even when it suffocates you.  

For the kids, I found someone just like him.  
For the kids, my brother left fingerprints on his wife’s arm.  
For the kids, we swore we’d never be like them—  
but we were already broken in their image.  

For the kids, we stayed in pieces too long.  
For the kids, we told ourselves lies we didn’t believe:    
“It’s different this time.”    
“It’s not so bad.”
“We’re doing it for them.”  

Love does not slam doors off their hinges.  
Love does not leave bruises hidden beneath sleeves.  
Love does not shrink you until your children can barely find you anymore.  

Love does not teach daughters to endure pain as proof of devotion—  
or sons to wield anger as power over others.

Love is open arms and steady hands;  
it is words that heal instead of wound.  
Love is a home where no one has to run or hide or whisper “It’s okay” through tears.

Love is leaving when staying means breaking—  
it is showing your children that love should never be feared.

Love is a mother who stands tall enough for her children to see her strength.  
Love is a father who earns respect without demanding fear.

Love is a child who never has to wonder:  
“Is this normal?”
Love should never have to be survived—especially not for the kids. Staying in a violent home doesn’t protect children; it teaches them that love and pain can coexist, that silence is survival, and that abuse is just part of life. This February, during Teen Dating Violence Awareness Month, it’s crucial to break the cycle before it begins. Domestic violence doesn’t just harm partners—it shapes the next generation. We must teach teens that love is not control, fear, or sacrifice. Leaving is not failure—it’s breaking a pattern that should have never started. If we want to prevent violence, we must show our children what love is supposed to be. Speak up, educate, and break the cycle before another generation carries its weight.
Vianne Lior Feb 15
I wore my heart like heavy armor,
Fighting shadows, none of them true.
Quixotic in my relentless fervor,
A soldier lost in skies of blue.
Andrew Feb 13
The strongest people are often the quietest,
Their shoulders broad enough to bear the weight of the world.
They listen when others crumble,
Piecing together broken hearts with steady hands.
Their words soothe,
Their presence steadies,
And their silence feels like a refuge.

But when their own walls begin to crack,
When the weight they carry grows too heavy,
Their voices falter.
Soft cries for help,
Eclipsed by the noise of lives they once held together.
Their pain fades into the background,
A whisper swallowed by the chaos of others.

They are seen as unshakable,
An unyielding constant in a storm.
But even the tallest trees sway,
Even the strongest pillars crack under strain.

Still, they stand,
Hoping someone will notice the way they lean,
Hoping someone will hear the faint echoes of their ache.
But most days,
Their own needs dissolve into the shadows,
Invisible in the light they give to others.

And in the stillness of their loneliness,
They wonder if anyone will ever listen
The way they have listened all along.
Sara Barrett Feb 11
The most substantial burden women have ever endured was not the weight of motherhood, nor the physical toll of childbirth, nor the exhaustive list of responsibilities, including appointments, bills, meals, and future plans, that they often undertook alone.

The most substantial burden women have ever endured was the weight of a man's ego.

Fragile as glass, yet razor-sharp, it constantly required polishing, yet was incapable of shining independently.

A man who made promises he failed to keep, who spoke of sacrifice but never made any, who relied on women to do the work while he took the credit.

A man who needed constant reminders, coaching, and guidance, yet claimed to have accomplished everything on his own.

And when women sought truth, held up the mirror, and dared to say, 'You are not who you pretend to be,' his world crumbled.

Not because it was untrue, but because he was exposed.

And that was the real transgression.

For men can deceive, fail, and break promises with impunity, yet a woman who speaks the truth is vilified.

She is cruel, vicious, and ungrateful for all that he almost did.

And still, she carries the weight of everything: the household, children, meals, laundry, bills, plans, his future, failures, and lies.

While he claims it is hard for him, asks if she cannot simply be nice, and reminds her that he works hard for her.

But what does a man work for if his home is merely a place for a woman to serve, to build his life while sacrificing her own?

And what could women achieve if they never had to bear the weight of a man?
A raw and unapologetic piece about the invisible weight women carry—not just the physical and emotional labor of life but the crushing burden of a man’s ego. This poem exposes the hypocrisy of male entitlement, the way women are expected to build, serve, and sacrifice while men take credit, demand kindness, and call it “hard work.” But what if women were free from this weight? What could we become if we never had to carry a man’s failures, lies, or fragile pride?

For every woman who has ever been told to be “nicer,” to “appreciate” what was almost done, or to shrink herself so a man can shine—this one’s for you. 🔥
There's a beauty in the ocean,
Like nothing else.
A deep feeling,
An echoing dark.
There's a feeling of foundation,
Like the marble columns of old.
A strength within the storm,
An arm refusing to strike back.
To the average person the ocean is nothing more than pretty water.
Yet to the very few, it's a home where one was lacked.
Lucky bansal Feb 10
Scars on my body, hidden by a smile,
Each tells a story, but I wear them with style.
They whisper of battles, of nights full of pain,
Yet here I stand, rising again.
Becoming stronger, day by day,
Through every storm, I find my way.
With effort and struggle, I climb so high,
Chasing my dreams beneath the sky.
Hoping for the best as the sun shines bright,
Bathing my soul in its golden light.
No shadow can hold me, no fear can stay,
For I am the dawn of a brand-new day.
Immortality Feb 21
I was afraid,
searching for light,
until I realized,
the dawn was born from the night.

Fall once, rise twice....
isn't it? :)
Millee Feb 9
even though the sun sets
and is swallowed by the night,
its light prevails against the darkness,
just as you can too
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