#hiddenpain - Hello Poetry

The red eyes, the low smile the people around have no clue whats going on inside, the depression that puts them in a state, if only they could fix what cant be replaced the pain they feel while they walk around with a joyful face, with a smile that looks full of pride but if only someone could feel what they feel, and help them with what’s going on inside, but shine bright and shine tonight we live a life that can be taken just how the wind can take a kite, Go outside, feel the breeze watch the stars, don’t be bother by the millions scars, the ones on your heart that you hide from the world, when people are around you try to blind the truth with a happy glare but only you know the pain is there.

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Apr 13

Apr 13, 2026 at 6:11 PM UTC

PoetrybyNai

Dim Days

The red eyes, the low smile the people around have no clue whats going on inside, the depression that puts them in a state, if only they could fix what cant be replaced the pain they feel while they walk around with a joyful face, with a smile that looks full of pride but if only someone could feel what they feel, and help them with what’s going on inside, but shine bright and shine tonight we live a life that can be taken just how the wind can take a kite, Go outside, feel the breeze watch the stars, don’t be bother by the millions scars, the ones on your heart that you hide from the world, when people are around you try to blind the truth with a happy glare but only you know the pain is there.

19

She came to me with wet cheeks, Told me about her fever— How it came at midnight, How it shook her like a leaf, How no one understood. I nodded. I understood. She spoke of thermometers and tablets, Of worries that kept her awake, Of how hard it is to be alone when you're sick. Her hands moved as she spoke, Tracing circles in the air, Drawing the shape of her suffering So I could see it clearly. I saw it. What she didn't see Was the cancer sleeping in my bones, The quiet war inside my chest, The way I measure my life In small things now— Morning light, birdsong, One more day. --- She said, "You're so strong. You always listen. You never complain about your own problems." And I smiled, Because what else can you do When the weight you carry Is too heavy for words? --- Here is what I have learned: Small pain cries. Big pain sits. Medium pain finds a friend. But the pain that will end you— That pain makes you a friend To everyone else's pain. She will remember this day As the time I held her hand While she was sick. She will tell others, "He was there for me." And I will remember That for one hour I forgot my own dying By holding someone else's living. --- Sometimes I wonder: If my cancer had a voice, What would it say? Would it scream? Would it beg? Would it shake people like she did? Or would it sit quietly too, Knowing that the world Can only carry So much sorrow? --- Tonight she is home, Probably sleeping, Her fever gone by morning. Tonight I am here, Counting heartbeats, Wondering how many are left, Holding my own hand Because no one else knows It needs holding. --- This is not a complaint. This is just how it is. Some people cry in public Because they can. Some people cry in private Because they must. And some people— Some people spend their last days Being soft places For others to fall. --- If you read this And remember someone Who listened to your pain But never shared their own— Go back. Ask again. Look closer. Because the quietest ones Are usually the ones Carrying the most. And sometimes, In their silence, They are screaming.

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Mar 12

Mar 12, 2026 at 8:46 PM UTC

shoaib005

The Listener

She came to me with wet cheeks, Told me about her fever— How it came at midnight, How it shook her like a leaf, How no one understood. I nodded. I understood. She spoke of thermometers and tablets, Of worries that kept her awake, Of how hard it is to be alone when you're sick. Her hands moved as she spoke, Tracing circles in the air, Drawing the shape of her suffering So I could see it clearly. I saw it. What she didn't see Was the cancer sleeping in my bones, The quiet war inside my chest, The way I measure my life In small things now— Morning light, birdsong, One more day. --- She said, "You're so strong. You always listen. You never complain about your own problems." And I smiled, Because what else can you do When the weight you carry Is too heavy for words? --- Here is what I have learned: Small pain cries. Big pain sits. Medium pain finds a friend. But the pain that will end you— That pain makes you a friend To everyone else's pain. She will remember this day As the time I held her hand While she was sick. She will tell others, "He was there for me." And I will remember That for one hour I forgot my own dying By holding someone else's living. --- Sometimes I wonder: If my cancer had a voice, What would it say? Would it scream? Would it beg? Would it shake people like she did? Or would it sit quietly too, Knowing that the world Can only carry So much sorrow? --- Tonight she is home, Probably sleeping, Her fever gone by morning. Tonight I am here, Counting heartbeats, Wondering how many are left, Holding my own hand Because no one else knows It needs holding. --- This is not a complaint. This is just how it is. Some people cry in public Because they can. Some people cry in private Because they must. And some people— Some people spend their last days Being soft places For others to fall. --- If you read this And remember someone Who listened to your pain But never shared their own— Go back. Ask again. Look closer. Because the quietest ones Are usually the ones Carrying the most. And sometimes, In their silence, They are screaming.

93

Life is unfair, a merciless snare, it is a weight we are forced to bear. A ruthless storm beyond repair, a fleeting breath of borrowed air. Many cradle hate in hollow eyes, others cloak their truth in sweet disguise. Souls sell themselves for a fragile prize, countless hearts bury hope where innocence dies. Several linger in silent dread, others run from words unsaid. Broken faces smile while faith has bled, many lie awake with ghosts in bed. Certain spirits break but never show, others conceal scars none will know. Many plant grief where sorrows grow, and countless reap what they did not sow. Notice the moon as it softly gleams, as sunsets burn in golden streams. Stars awaken quiet dreams, while life slips by like whispered beams. Time will not pause, nor will it stay, it steals our breath and fades away. So live with fire while you may, for your page will turn one final day. Ş.Ü

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Feb 22

Feb 22, 2026 at 11:10 AM UTC

Senay

Pages of a Lifetime

Life is unfair, a merciless snare, it is a weight we are forced to bear. A ruthless storm beyond repair, a fleeting breath of borrowed air. Many cradle hate in hollow eyes, others cloak their truth in sweet disguise. Souls sell themselves for a fragile prize, countless hearts bury hope where innocence dies. Several linger in silent dread, others run from words unsaid. Broken faces smile while faith has bled, many lie awake with ghosts in bed. Certain spirits break but never show, others conceal scars none will know. Many plant grief where sorrows grow, and countless reap what they did not sow. Notice the moon as it softly gleams, as sunsets burn in golden streams. Stars awaken quiet dreams, while life slips by like whispered beams. Time will not pause, nor will it stay, it steals our breath and fades away. So live with fire while you may, for your page will turn one final day. Ş.Ü

25

I smile at mirrors that don"t smile back, Carrying my heart like its starting to crack I laugh real loud so no one can hear the sound of my thoughts when I'm all alone with my fear I say "Im fine" like its easy to say, But the truth feels heavier everyday My tears know my name, they fall on repeat, Like rain that remembers the cracks in the street I gave so much love, I forgot what I needed, Planted my soul just to watch others feed I stayed to long, I hoped to hard, played every hand and still lost every card the nights get louder, the days feel fake, I hold myself together, just so I don"t break I scream in silence, I ache in rhyme, Im tired of healing the same old time But if I cry, let it mean I cared, That I felt deeply, that I dared, These tears aren't weakness, they're Proof I tried, Proof I was real even when I cried But that's proof I can never show the proof is all dried up, My tears ran out, Now I smile through silence, through fear, thought doubt What hurt me most, no one will see, Cause the pain looks quiet, when it lives inside

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Feb 3

Feb 3, 2026 at 8:33 PM UTC

TheAnonymousPoet

The Silence

I smile at mirrors that don"t smile back, Carrying my heart like its starting to crack I laugh real loud so no one can hear the sound of my thoughts when I'm all alone with my fear I say "Im fine" like its easy to say, But the truth feels heavier everyday My tears know my name, they fall on repeat, Like rain that remembers the cracks in the street I gave so much love, I forgot what I needed, Planted my soul just to watch others feed I stayed to long, I hoped to hard, played every hand and still lost every card the nights get louder, the days feel fake, I hold myself together, just so I don"t break I scream in silence, I ache in rhyme, Im tired of healing the same old time But if I cry, let it mean I cared, That I felt deeply, that I dared, These tears aren't weakness, they're Proof I tried, Proof I was real even when I cried But that's proof I can never show the proof is all dried up, My tears ran out, Now I smile through silence, through fear, thought doubt What hurt me most, no one will see, Cause the pain looks quiet, when it lives inside

25

All of the demons inside that no one will ever meet Claw at my mind, begging to be freed But behind my smile, they will remain under lock and key Their cries a gentle plea In the prison of my mind Where they are ****** to die

0

Dec 5, 2025

Dec 5, 2025 at 3:52 AM UTC

LilGhostGirl

Warden

All of the demons inside that no one will ever meet Claw at my mind, begging to be freed But behind my smile, they will remain under lock and key Their cries a gentle plea In the prison of my mind Where they are ****** to die

6

I say, "They are just thoughts — they will go away." But these thoughts yell louder than my words , Sometimes it feels like my brain will explode. Depression is living with a dead inner being, Dragging my lifeless body day by day— Too many sleepless nights , My mind fighting demons. I am afraid of who I've become. Afraid to light a dark room, To face a mirror — Because mirrors don't lie. It's funny how I look happy outside While I'm breaking inside, Each breath heavier than the last. Depression is like a death sentence. It's really hard to leave my bed. Sometimes I think the world Would be better without me, Because I don't really matter. I'm tired of pretending I'm fine, Tired of faking smiles, Tired of answering "I'm okay" When the truth is — I'm not.

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Sep 12, 2025

Sep 12, 2025 at 6:29 AM UTC

Wanjiru

Behind the smiles

I say, "They are just thoughts — they will go away." But these thoughts yell louder than my words , Sometimes it feels like my brain will explode. Depression is living with a dead inner being, Dragging my lifeless body day by day— Too many sleepless nights , My mind fighting demons. I am afraid of who I've become. Afraid to light a dark room, To face a mirror — Because mirrors don't lie. It's funny how I look happy outside While I'm breaking inside, Each breath heavier than the last. Depression is like a death sentence. It's really hard to leave my bed. Sometimes I think the world Would be better without me, Because I don't really matter. I'm tired of pretending I'm fine, Tired of faking smiles, Tired of answering "I'm okay" When the truth is — I'm not.

23

Hiding their talents, afraid someone might steal their light. Valuing others' happiness, often at the cost of their own. Caring for everyone — even those who curse them out of envy. Neglecting their own health while nurturing others. Spreading smiles, while burying their own pain deep inside. These aren’t flaws... They’re the quiet traits of strong, introverted girls — Silent warriors with golden hearts.

0

Jun 12, 2025

Jun 12, 2025 at 12:43 AM UTC

Arna_writes

The Quiet Ones

Hiding their talents, afraid someone might steal their light. Valuing others' happiness, often at the cost of their own. Caring for everyone — even those who curse them out of envy. Neglecting their own health while nurturing others. Spreading smiles, while burying their own pain deep inside. These aren’t flaws... They’re the quiet traits of strong, introverted girls — Silent warriors with golden hearts.

8

A home? A place where your mornings start with scoldings and nights end with arguments? A place where you are unloved? A place where you don’t even know what your siblings feel about you? A place you are having heavy heartbeats and panics? A place where you don’t feel like sharing anything? A place where your existence doesn’t seem worthy? A place where you can’t even cry peacefully? A place where no one express what they feel? Is this place called a home Maa? Is it? Really?

0

May 16, 2025

May 16, 2025 at 10:10 AM UTC

Arna_writes

A home?

A home? A place where your mornings start with scoldings and nights end with arguments? A place where you are unloved? A place where you don’t even know what your siblings feel about you? A place you are having heavy heartbeats and panics? A place where you don’t feel like sharing anything? A place where your existence doesn’t seem worthy? A place where you can’t even cry peacefully? A place where no one express what they feel? Is this place called a home Maa? Is it? Really?

11

In public, I wear it well — A mask of smiles, Words sharp and light, Jokes like armor, Eyes that never seem to waver. You see the me I've crafted — But not the pain, Not the struggles, Not the tears, Not the humiliations I've endured. All of it — covered, hidden by: Persona, protege me ab ulterius hominibus qui de me ridebant, semel ostendi infirmitatem meam, et ideo omnes non solum curaverunt, sed etiam me contumeliis affecerunt. But with the mask, All seems like fine, smooth glass — Perfect, flawless, Untouched. Yet beneath that glass, Cracks grow deeper, Thin lines of truth, Splitting under pressure. Waiting for the moment It all will break — And when it breaks, Will they see me? Or just the shattered pieces? Will they reach out, Or step on the shards? Will I be free, Or filled with insults of my weakness? And so, I wear the mask.

0

Mar 13, 2025

Mar 13, 2025 at 3:50 AM UTC

Astrum

A Mask like nothing.

In public, I wear it well — A mask of smiles, Words sharp and light, Jokes like armor, Eyes that never seem to waver. You see the me I've crafted — But not the pain, Not the struggles, Not the tears, Not the humiliations I've endured. All of it — covered, hidden by: Persona, protege me ab ulterius hominibus qui de me ridebant, semel ostendi infirmitatem meam, et ideo omnes non solum curaverunt, sed etiam me contumeliis affecerunt. But with the mask, All seems like fine, smooth glass — Perfect, flawless, Untouched. Yet beneath that glass, Cracks grow deeper, Thin lines of truth, Splitting under pressure. Waiting for the moment It all will break — And when it breaks, Will they see me? Or just the shattered pieces? Will they reach out, Or step on the shards? Will I be free, Or filled with insults of my weakness? And so, I wear the mask.

31

In Warsaw’s heart, I step inside, Old memories rush, I can’t hide. "My love," she smiles, "I’m glad you're here," But I sigh, "I wish it were mine, my dear." The street outside, through glass so dim, I step out, the world feels grim. A crash - glass falls, she calls my name, "All’s well," I say, through bleeding pain. Her smile stays, my love remains.

0

Jan 15, 2025

Jan 15, 2025 at 8:05 AM UTC

Gabriel_Yale

Love's Quiet Return

In Warsaw’s heart, I step inside, Old memories rush, I can’t hide. "My love," she smiles, "I’m glad you're here," But I sigh, "I wish it were mine, my dear." The street outside, through glass so dim, I step out, the world feels grim. A crash - glass falls, she calls my name, "All’s well," I say, through bleeding pain. Her smile stays, my love remains.

9

Is this me what have I become corrupted by darkness it seems so long since the scarring begun I thought I would heal from the torment and hate mentally and physically cut with double edged blade should I just stop now pain has me hooked I have no tears left to cry I cover it up, overlooked but deep down inside I try so hard to hide but scars can last forever inside, and outside

0

Jan 14, 2021

Jan 14, 2021 at 2:16 PM UTC

anonymousthinker

Is this me?

Is this me what have I become corrupted by darkness it seems so long since the scarring begun I thought I would heal from the torment and hate mentally and physically cut with double edged blade should I just stop now pain has me hooked I have no tears left to cry I cover it up, overlooked but deep down inside I try so hard to hide but scars can last forever inside, and outside

16