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Sometimes, I fear my depression will win
But then I pick up the pen
And all my problems disperse
I'm writing scriptures,
You'd think the lines
Were birthed in a church
But I'm cursed
I'm not sure if those words have worth
And that's a scary confession
But this isn't a verse
It's a frickin' therapy session
I'm finally learning my lesson
I'm finally calling for help
This is probably the most vulnerable
That I've ever felt.
Searching for a sign
We just play the cards that we're dealt
And yeah, I know that there are times
You wish you were someone else
But you see, inside my mind,
I think you're perfect as yourself
Enrichment of the soul
Is the highest form of wealth
So rest now, my love
All that stress is bad for your health
I performed this piece on social media a few months ago. I wasn't sure if I still liked it, but I thought I'd share it with you all in the HP community.

"Rest now" can be viewed as a conversation between a woeful person (the author) and their console (whether that be a friend, a therapist, the page, or themselves) that discusses the inner anxieties of someone who's putting themselves out there [in their career, or whatever it may be] for the first time.

The counselor reminds the author that they are exactly who they are meant to be and need not stress about anything.
Mishika Feb 16
Your pretty pretty eyes,
Don’t look at me with them.
Your pretty pretty smile,
Goshhh stop it!!
The pretty pretty hair,
And the pretty pretty you,
But all I end up saying is oh cool.
I still write about you and pretend like I don't think of you every day
I write (wrote) just for the thrill of it,
I write (wrote) because I liked it a little bit.

Verse was my drug of choice,
And ingesting rhyme is the reason for my raspy voice.

But I could stop whenever I wanted,
Now I won't stop because it pleases you.
For the wonderful woman who lives for these poems.
Flutter above a gentle breeze
Nectar of life and day
  In floral blue sea
Colors abound array
      Melody beating wings
What flying free brings
Ode to the Butterfly.
Norbert Tasev Jan 26
It is as if, as a intended intention, it was constantly going on, and even the stupidity of the free-thought minds is to be held; Now, beyond the world of tabloid media, the so-called. In the world of cheap, diluent-smelling influencers, which have been abandoned to pop culture, there could be a growing ruthless, almost intentionally brutal-hard competition for the sacred favor of followers and lyrics. Because now it seems as if all and everyone is a cheap, bribing, pathetic Jibs' sensation not only from the wide Cyber ​​network of mass-information digital channels and networks, but also from the increasing decade its rather heating and determines it.

Now they can't dare to listen alone to the reasons of the already completely left -handed, which can be made, to be logically built -in clichés, because they are better off telling others what, where, where, and especially how to do it.

Personality as a temporary or if you like; an intermediate individual, no longer satisfied with the unrepeatable magic and perhaps specialty of the individuality of the individual. Cheap, dilute, reduced simplified sentences are grinding many cheap celebrity presenters on TV just like on the digital wavelength of commercially secured radios, and of course no one guesses, and knows that if pseudo-hazug news and rumors replace a poem, Perhaps the average brainwashed, hazelnuts of wild juggle men would be able to re-discover the small micro-capabilities of their thinking using autodidact methods.

It is as if this current vulnerable life seemed to be a pathetic, complex tangle, from which a safe panic-free release from a safe manifestation on asylum routes, as well as a fled mailer!
Norbert Tasev Jan 20
The flickering sliver of night light now encloses the pitch black like a looming, cracked lampshade. Outside, the brutal cold of winter, which wants to gnash its teeth, bends icicles, even though it is only minus two at the moment. "That's plenty too!" - you think, while a lost yellow-cheese taxi carelessly passes in front of your house.

Something has stopped again and disappeared from this World that is now starting the new year. You can't be 100% certain that you've actually just become a tolerated, transiting guest, who is asked to go to hell behind your back with the very first elegant gesture, or is pestered for a while with wait-and-see, honey-glazed tactics. - A surprising number of people flounder through their own ****** lives, as if everything and everyone is already spiraling towards the great common debtor, from which there is neither escape nor return.

The fake passwords that also attack the other worlds in the form of belated rescuers rarely, if ever, arrive on time; an elderly mother collapses on the open street corner, while curious, naive, almost childlike onlookers rush around her, while her carefree and worn-out body sighs out its thought-to-be-immortal soul as the last unfinished chapter.

The wretched shell-loneliness, and rather the increased avoidance of redundancy, increasingly tempts the still-stuck living. - The fate of the lost often scares even those who are only now trying to learn and teach the acid and pepper of the capitalized but lying Life. The projected vision of the future is now even more glaring, and even more conspicuous. The beginning and end are often barely recognizable!
Norbert Tasev Jan 20
Who is hard at heart, or never at peace in the name of compulsive games as the whispers of the left index finger, like the convict, the son of man has been branded, except that the fussy, ragged life is still a serious matter. Man's compromised hope was also lied to from the heavens, like the diamond-bright stars, in order to somehow fill the emptiness of the great lack at any cost.

Because somehow all of them have been forced to hide the deep abyss intentions of their own selfish and greedy plunder in secret and perhaps under me. some of them are even capable of squealing out of their own skin at any time and pretending to be something other than what they really are. They are the total opposites of a relatively impracticable, agreed-upon lifestyle and social arrangement.

Only the long-lasting loneliness could not ask for absolving grace from the agonizing, mind-blowing solitude; even among the memories of the past that open wounds, a lasting, agreed reconciliation can now seem more and more difficult. - With unreserved half-solutions - he is afraid - it is difficult to cross the dimensional gates of the inner soul, which do not just open to anyone.

With interchangeable Janus faces - in many cases - like sheep led to the slaughterhouse, snarling beasts stare at each other, worms and traitors at the same time, because they could hardly do anything else. In the shelters of sleepless nights, it would be nice to have a predictable, protective hug that is unique and inimitable. Everything seems to sink relatively uselessly into the squinting silence...
LL Jan 14
let me
want your future —
   one that's
   certain and sturdy

and need your now —
   where we're
   calm and quiet


where waking up
   doesn't hurt
   anymore
   because it's
   no longer
   just
   a dream

01/14/2025
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