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Jay May 5
I know you’re tired of me, because I’m tired of myself. And it’s not just the weight of my body, but the relentless echo of my thoughts, circling like vultures over the dead parts of me I can’t seem to resurrect. Each morning feels like I’m peeling myself out of bed, shedding skin that’s steeped in shame. I watch you sip your drink, knowing it’s easier than saying my name. You used to look at me like I was the sunset, worth staying a little longer for. Now your eyes drift: to the clock, to the glow of your phone, to anywhere but here. And I can’t bring myself to blame you. I built a mausoleum out of what we had, hoping you’d still find warmth in a tomb. My chest wasn’t always this hollow, but over time it unraveled, thread by thread, pulled by hands that mimicked mine. Now even your kindness makes me flinch, and the silence between us feels like confirmation of everything I fear. Somehow, I’m always too much and never enough all at once. I understand if your soul is weary, calloused by the effort it takes just to keep trying. I’ve carried the ache of my own presence for so long that sometimes, even I wish I could leave.
Sleepypanda May 3
At the time of the hour
The moon brightly stood by the night sky
Peeking through the thick cloud
Shines those paths to be guided

Cold wind howling woefully
Leaf softly dancing under the tree
Looking away, far from home mindlessly
Lost, empty heart
Zack Ripley Apr 29
So tired of being the owner of a heart that's broken
All I want is the courage to love with arms wide open
But everything I've seen and everyone i know tells me it's not worth it
But how could it not be worth it?
Every time I start trying to make myself better
My brain keeps asking does it even matter
The hardest thing about living with depression
Is when you lose hope you'll ever notice your reflection
But just like there's more than one way to hurt
There's more than one way to heal
And you deserve to know that your pain is real
There's gonna be some bad, but it's gonna feel so good
When you realize it's OK if you're misunderstood.
It's gonna take some time, but you're gonna be ok. Because for what it's worth, I'll be with you every step of the way
lex Apr 21
Eyes blur over words,
tasks pile like silent judgments-
why can't I keep up?

Every day I try,
but the mountain has never moved.
why can't I be stronger?

Reports inked in red bleed,
proof of how I've let them down-
and myself again.

Tired to the bone,
even rest won't hold me now.
I'm just...drifting off.

Same roads, same old steps-
life loops in gray repetition.
I forget to breathe.

School, then noise, then more-
life stacks struggle like heavy books.
No one but me seems to bend.

I get home and sit,
just to feel the ache settle.
Crying is my break.

Behind my closed door,
the world finally lets go.
Here, I'm just...myself.

No masks in this space-
just the quiet hum of me,
and the weight I shed.

Everything seems to hurt at once-
to falter beneath my feet.
I want stable ground.

Not all pain is loud.
Not all struggle leaves a mark.
Some of us wander astray.
not broken beyond repair,
just worn down.

Some wounds wear no scars-
they bloom silently, deep inside.
where no eyes can reach.

Erosion taking time-
silent, steady, unnoticed,
gradually-things vanish.
And I often feel myself fading,
in the smallest, softest ways.

These words, these lines,
are not cries for rescue,
but quiet pleas to breathe.

I know i'm not broken,
simply a person-
someone who's learning
how to exist under the pressure,
even if I don't have the answers yet.

I am more than these battles,
more than the crimson ink scars on paper.
I am the silence between the words,
the moments when I let myself just be.

Maybe one day,
I'll find the strength,
to grow into myself,
to let the world see-

How much I've carried,
how far I've come,
even when it felt like I was barely moving.
finals and drivers test piling up on me, everything is so stressful as of late.
Mariah Apr 18
Go back to sleep
It whispers to me
With my head in my hands
While my body and all I am
Fall deeper in uncertainty

Go back to sleep
It whispers softly
Doing so delicately
Cautions as to not make me
Feel guilty

Go back to bed
We'll watch out for danger
And have an ear for strangers
So you could sleep instead

Go back to bed
You need your rest
We understand your reasoning
But right now its not what's best

Please,
Go back to sleep
Listen to our expertise
Before you find yourself too deep

Lay down to sleep
Our dearest lamb
We know it's hard
We understand

We've felt the burden on your soul
And while we'd help you out of any hole
Before we must
Could we first try what we've discussed

Please,
Go back to sleep
You can trust
We're proud of you just for trying
But you have done enough
Maria Apr 18
Mum, my sweetheart, I’m tired.
Do you believe or not?

It’s like my legs are broken under
Or maybe they’re gone for short.

My head is being torn apart
By different odd thoughts.

And I can’t, I can't stop thinking.
Fears are around. More mots.

I ***** up my eyes firmly.
I instantly stop my ears.

And I’m silent again, silent again
As if there’re no dread and fears.

Mum, my sweetheart, I’m tired!
I don’t want being afraid to live!

I’m so tired mum! I’m really tired!
There’re too much atrocities.
It’s true, not a myth.

Just little bells,
Ding-****, ding-****,
Are chirping sweet sounds.
How nice is their song.

There’s not a bit truth
In that saccharine ‘re-fa-la’.
But there won't be nothing else.
We can’t live without lie.
Thank you very much for reading this poem! It's particularly personal, inside out, painful... 🙏
James Ignotus Apr 18
The ceiling peels in slow spirals,
not from neglect,
but from how long I’ve stared at it,
counting the flake’s hesitation before it drops.
The clock ticks without punctuation,
dragging each second like a dull knife
across something soft I used to need.

My limbs forget they’re mine
unless I remind them,
a muscle twitches,
a shoulder reconsiders its weight.
Even my name feels unstitched,
like a coat I keep meaning to throw away
but wear because it still remembers my shape.

Outside, birds call to each other
like they’ve never been tired,
like morning isn’t a decision.
Inside, I steep in low-level static,
a hum no one else hears,
thick as wool,
soft as resignation.
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