#internalstruggle
Thudding,
thudding,
thudding…
Familiar sound
again.
It carved a pit in the ground.
It was red,
it was bright
before it turned black.
There you are—
running out of oxygen,
begging,
begging,
begging,
digging your blood-stained fingernails
into the dark.
You can’t survive
with your fingernails
still carrying the weight of what was never allowed to live.
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 11:55 AM UTC
Virtue is a poison on the tongues of some. They savagely sip vice
like wine.
Coal-black pitch, nowadays,
is a blinding glare.
a hissing, wax-choked wick:
Cold, dead.. yet glowing white.
Shadows but a noose, knoted tight around the day's throat,
strangling the fading sun
to breed stellar rot.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 10:46 PM UTC
For years I fought something only I could see,
A battlefield etched in the silence of me.
The foe was mine, yet I could not yield,
A fight contained in an unmarked field.
I clashed with shadows that wore my face,
Each strike within left a deeper trace.
Fighting hard just to stand or breathe,
A battleground I couldn’t command or leave.
But time wore thin, the noise fell still,
The air grew thick, the ground unfilled.
No victor crowned, no flag was claimed,
Just ruined trenches and a captive unchained.
Not quite peace, but free from pain,
A quiet place where hope’s restrained.
No joy to chase but tears is no more,
Just steady breathing — after the war.
Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 7:15 AM UTC
I wear the mask of too many roles,
Caretaker, rebel—lost in their tolls.
I give, I bend, but never break,
Hiding parts of me for others' sake.
I ask myself, "Is this enough?"
Is my best a gift, or a never-ending bluff?
I wonder if they see the cracks inside,
The parts of me I’ve tried to hide.
When things go wrong, I pull away,
Lost in regret, in a sea of dismay.
I cry, I doubt, I ask, “Why me?”
Stuck in the same cycle, never free.
I fear they’ll see me as a lie,
Fake, rude, disloyal—just a disguise.
But deep within, I know the truth,
I hide, I shrink, to avoid the proof.
I suppress the honesty, the raw, the real,
For fear they’ll judge what they can’t feel.
I keep my truth locked far away,
A prisoner of my own dismay.
Isolation brings a fleeting peace,
But it’s the silence that won’t cease.
With the few who truly see,
I try to feel what it means to be me.
But even in those moments, I fear,
That I’ll be left, unseen, unclear.
So I wonder, in the quiet of night,
Am I enough, or just a fight?
I don’t know what my purpose is yet,
But in this struggle, I’ve learned to forget.
I’m supposed to lead, but all I see,
Are the shattered pieces of who I could be.
I carry self-doubt and endless strain,
Validation from others, my constant chain.
But in the dark, I’m left to roam,
Wishing for a place to call home.
Apr 3, 2025
Apr 3, 2025 at 11:28 PM UTC
He lay on the table,
his heart torn apart,
Fasted and hollow,
a soul from the start.
For eight long hours,
the surgeon would fight.
A scalpel in hand,
to restore what was right.
The Mayo scissors cut deep,
tearing through the skin.
Halsted forceps clenched,
pulling through sin.
A bypass to carry
what was broken inside,
but the heart, in silence,
began to collide.
Scream tore the air,
choking the breath,
crying for mercy,
for the end, for death.
With every stitch,
the room quaked and bled—
A love that could never
be healed or fed.
And when it was done,
the silence was worse.
The screaming had drowned
in an endless curse.
No suture could bind
what the heart couldn't bear.
A wound so deep,
not a soul could repair.
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 1:27 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel like nothing is right
Like there isn’t really a reason to fight
When it gets real bad I think that I might
Live and breathe for my final night.
These demons I resist but I’m getting weak
Their strength still grows reaching its peak
I feel like it’s my death that they seek
Urging me of them never to speak
“Don’t tell them that, they won’t understand
What it’s like to be dealt this terrible hand
Drifting through life seeing everything bland
Fighting each moment this pain to withstand”
“Just give in, it’ll never go away
Even if it does it’ll come back some day
You’ve tried to win but never found a way
To ease the pain with your life you’ll pay”
These are the thoughts that drift around
In my head they continually pound
Forcing me to chamber the round
That ends it all with a deafening sound
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 6:09 AM UTC
So you must have something you really care about to call yourself a fighter. There is a certain amount of pride that comes along with that.
I’ll be honest with you, this world will try to bring you down, along with everything you care about. Maybe not all the time, but there will be days when it feels like the world stopped caring. But for some reason you didn’t give up… Why? I guess only you know that.
Everybody has something they’re willing to fight for, and maybe you had to fight physically or internally. But you have something you’re willing to defend. Whether it be your family or possessions, beliefs, or even yourself. And I get that, believe me I do. I may not know you, but I get wanting to stand up for something.
Because everybody’s got something worth fighting for. Why else do we decide to defend ourselves for what we’ve got? So keep fighting. In some cases, it keeps us alive. Take care of yourself. It seems like you’re doing a good job at doing that already. Thanks for finding my letter
~Letter Writer
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC