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I said:
“I think I have ADHD.”
They answered:
“No, you’re just a ******. Get a job.”

So I ran.
In circles.
Around a reality
that never gave me room to breathe—
just fingers pointed and ******* advice.

They didn’t see the war in my head,
just the pupils.
They didn’t hear the silence in me,
just the noise I made.

I asked for help—
they handed me judgment.
I reached out—
they recoiled,
like I carried plague and guilt in my veins.

And then—
years later,
when everything’s burned,
when I wear my diagnosis like scars and proof,
they show up.

With a box.
“Here’s Ritalin. It’ll help.”

Ritalin.
Legal speed.
The same thing they hated me for chasing
now handed over
wrapped in plastic and prescription smiles.

What the **** happened?
Was it the label that made me worthy?
The paperwork that made my scream real?

I was never chasing a high.
I was chasing peace.
I was never after drugs.
I just wanted to understand
why my mind never shut up.

But there was no room for that.
Not then.
Not until now.
Now that the system sees
what I’ve been screaming
the whole
****
time.
Written from the frustration of being mislabeled for years. I wasn’t chasing a high — I was chasing silence in a storming mind. Misunderstood as an addict, dismissed by the system, denied peace. This is for everyone who had to scream just to be heard. For those with ADHD, for the fighters, for the forgotten.
eliana Jun 27
Time doesn’t heal wounds
to make you forget.

It doesn’t heal wounds to
erase the memories.

Time leaves you with a scar
to remind you of how you fought through it.

Time leaves you with a scar
to remind you of how you bled

and how you survived.

You survived.
i feel im not so good at short poems as i like to express as youve seen in my past poems, in lots of words but im trying to give it a second chance and see how creative i can get.
Joshua Phelps Jun 13
tear and thrash,
create, then crash—

no meaning left,
no faith,
just ash.

am i the only
one who feels
under the gun?

i’ve fought
for something more,

rose from flames,
still wanting more.

i’ve endured
all i could endure—

and now all i see
is blood
in my eyes.

but i’m
not giving up
yet.

i’m already broken—
but i’m not
gone.

how do i go on
when nothing feels right?

i stare into the sun
just to steal
some light.

you’re not the only one
falling from the sky—

but how can i be strong
when you keep
singing goodbye?
inspired by Story of the Year’s 'How Can We Go On', this piece is about survival after collapse—when there’s nothing left to hold but your own strength. for anyone still standing, still searching, still screaming: this is for you.
Cadmus Jun 5
🏛️

Those who survived the deadly blows of life,
and the collapse of all they trusted.

Don’t cry anymore.

They’ve traded tears,
for silence.

No joy stirs them.

No sorrow shakes them.

They know too much.

They’ve seen the truth:
nothing stays.
Not warmth,
not promises,
not even pain.

They walk among us,
quiet
like ruins.

Surrounded by crowds,
they remain alone,

Survivors

wearing the stillness
of what nearly killed them.

🏛️
Some scars don’t scream, they whisper through silence that never ends.
Q May 25
Different Place Different Time
Same script, Same lines
Lonely souls and one alone
Bound in Breadth, but not in depth
Similar in Vein but not in kind
but Similar enough in my mind
The math says I'm bound to find others
Others who resonate and hear my frequency
"It's a numbers game"
I tell myself-
Over and over until I go under.
There must be others
Erased by the system and from Existence;
the cracks multiply and leaks grow
until their tsunami is contained in teacup.
But what if outliers are still syncratic
Why do I leak aporia over and over again?
Q May 25
“I'll find them"
I say as I come across another corpse
The blood leaking out of the open wounds inflicted upon them.
Turning their intellect into a poison
that eats them inside out.  
They're gone now (blanched from existence),
I look around
And see the bones on which
My “exceptionalism” stands.
Unnoticed by most
but I sense their ghosts in the spaces that should be filled.  
The same system that killed my kin,
demands I cannibalize them
to sell me as a relic - a reminder of what was
But I never forget - or forgive - a murderer.
(Part Two - Bones of Ghosts)
Aurora May 17
Here I am, struggling through the battle of life,
Fighting the monsters that live inside me.
I’m tired — I want to give up, I want to run.
But their ****** laughter still echoes in my head.
Every wound they gave still bleeds, the pain still fresh.
Something inside whispers, “Let go,” but now I see—
It was never me. It was their curse that clung to me.

Here I am, waging wars I was never meant to fight,
Bleeding from wounds I should never have carried.
The pain still knocks me down, again and again.
I escaped their grip the first time I spread my wings—
But why did I have to flee?
When my angels left, I had no one left to turn to.
My cries for help were drowned by the devil’s laughter.
I watched my angels bow to the dark — and hope abandoned me.

Here I am, looking back at the wreckage of my path,
Their voices still echo, loud in my mind.
All the pain, all the memories fuel this rage—
My heart, twisted, filled with hate.
My broken mind hates the one I love,
And loves the ones I wish I didn’t.
So I built a fortress around my heart,
Forged in hate, it shields me from life.

Now I’m alone—surrounded, but alone.
I want to break free.
But now I realize…
I have become my own captor.
And escape feels impossible.

But still, I’ll try.
I’ll keep going.
Because I can’t give up now.
Vicky Donald May 11
She was born where the walls would tremble and sway,

Where love came in shouting, then drifted away.

Where silence could cut like a whispering blade,

And kindness was rare as the warmth of May.



Her mother drank storms and let them cascade

On young, aching shoulders, alone and afraid.

She never asked thunder to fall from the skies,

But still bore the weight under tear-salted eyes.



She learned that trust is a word carved out in stone-

Left out in the rain, eroded, alone.

She gave hers to hands that vowed to stay,

But they shattered her trust and then walked away.



At thirteen, her world didn’t fully fall down,

But something inside her refused to be found.

She stopped seeking mirrors, stopped seeking sound,

Felt sure that no soul would hear if she drowned.



Bur deep in the dark, she found ink and a page-

A space to release her quietest rage.

She wrote to survive, let sorrow flow,

To dream of a world where kind hands would grow.



word upon word, she built from the pain,

A self, made of fire, of hope, of the rain.

She grew-not just older-but fiercely and right,

A warrior shaped in the absence of light.



Now she’s a mother, a woman, a flame,

Who shields her own from sorrow and shame.

She listens, she holds, she stands strong and true,

Becoming the love, she never once knew.



The past still whispers, but cannot command;

It doesn’t define her, it doesn’t stand.

She writes-not to flee, but to chart the climb,

Each line a reminder: she rose every time.



She tells the girl hidden deep in her mind,

“We made it, we lived, we rose, and we shined.

The monsters are silent-they don’t get the end.

We write the last word, with strength as our pen.”
Archer Apr 28
I can’t tell the difference between platonic
And romantic love
I’m sorry for believing you just meant to be
friendly
I’m sorry for believing that those touches were friendly
I’m sorry for enabling this by acting friendly
Maybe I just felt in need
Of a friend
STOP; Now that you're finished, you will now, forever be done;
For I have a chance now to grow, while your life from here will flop;

DROP; Did you get your rocks off, during your twisted, distasteful, fun?
Let the truth be known, let the confessions begin to flow!
YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DO WHAT YOU DID TO ME EVEN:
IF I WAS WEARING SHORTS AND A CROP TOP!!

&ROLL; It's time I start helping to put people like you away!
It's time for myself, and more people to;
get the strength and the courage and the;
Ability and the freedom to open up and finally say;
WE ARE SPEAKING UP, AND GIVING OUT NAMES!!
WE ARE NO LONGER ASHAMED, FOR WE ARE NOT THE;
CAUSE OF YOUR PITIFUL SHAME!!!
WE ARE SPEAKING UP AND SEEKING JUSTICE AND REBORN INNOCENCE!!
If our lives have to be changed, then so does yours;
Perverts LIKE YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE THE SAME;
IT"S TIME FOR PERVERTS LIKE YOU, TO;
BE DECAPITATED LIKE USELESS SERVANTS!

STOP; Your time has come to an end, no longer the sunlight you shall see;
Oh and trust me, you will be going to hell, nowhere near the heavens up top;

DROP; I will create my own valley because of disgraces like you;
You only gave myself and others the power, to finally set ourselves free;
We will gather together, and spread the words "NO AND STOP"

&ROLL; I hope the day you meet your final demise,
not one person has a tear to cry
And I hope not one person has the audacity to ask why
Because when we were too young, we lost ourselves and our innocents
BUT THAT'S ALL GOING TO CHANGE, BECAUSE;
WE ARE GOING TO START TAKING CONTROL!

Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/19/2025
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