#mentalhealthawareness
I speak, but it’s like I’m whispering to walls
Words fall through cracks, no one hears my calls
I’m shouting loud, but it’s just empty air
Do they even notice, or do they just not care?
I’m right here, right in front of their eyes
But I’m just a shadow, a ghost in disguise
Would they notice if I disappeared?
Would they see me or just feel relieved?
Am I just noise in the background, unheard?
Am I seen, or ignored?
Would they notice, or am I just ignored?
I give my all, but it’s never enough
Like I’m chasing stars, but they don’t light me up
They smile and pretend like they understand
But the truth is, I’m lost in no-man’s land
I’m reaching out, but no one takes my hand
Just another face they don’t understand
Would they notice if I disappeared?
Would they see me or just feel relieved?
Am I just noise in the background, unheard?
Am I seen, or ignored?
Would they notice, or am I just ignored?
I’m tired of screaming in silence
Of fading without a trace
I want to be more than a ghost in the crowd
I want to find my place
Would they notice if I disappeared?
Would they see me or just feel relieved?
Am I just noise in the background, unheard?
Am I seen, or ignored?
Would they notice, or am I just ignored?
Maybe one day someone will see
The real me, not just what’s on the surface,
And maybe then I’ll finally be free
From being unseen, ignored, in this world’s cold purpose.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 2:15 PM UTC
Something’s not right—
inside my head it echoes,
like distant shellfire.
Even in silence, I hear
what never truly left me.
The mines still remain,
wired beneath ordinary days—
I step carefully.
Every sound feels like a threat,
every shadow breathes danger.
I speak with the dead,
not always words—just mutterings,
their voices linger constant.
Answering in broken tones,
like memories half-remembered.
The world stains itself—
grass, sky, trees all bleed the same—
or maybe it’s me.
Flares still burn behind my eyes,
colour refuses to settle.
They come close at night,
gathered around my still bed,
keeping me breathing.
When they fade, I come undone—
left alone with what survived.
They understand it—
the ****** I cannot see,
the traps in each step.
This world feels no different now
from the one I left behind.
Now I lie awake,
between ward walls and old wars—
never quite returned.
If something has broken here,
it still speaks… and won’t be still.
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 3:17 AM UTC
One night I was going to end it all.
I had the thing I was going to use
in hand.
But the thought
Just the thought
Of all the people it'd affect,
what I'd miss.
I couldn't bear doing it,
for the small amount
Of people that'd be thankful for it.
I couldn't take the easy way out.
I put that thing back where it belonged,
And went to bed.
And what truly healed me
My little spark of sunshine
Was finally dating
My crush of 3 years
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 12:04 AM UTC
I apologize for very little reasons.
I say sorry to people even for the slightest mistakes.
Sometimes I feel sorry for no reason at all.
And sometimes I fumble to say sorry
even when there is no fault of mine.
It may portray me as silly, weak, childish, sensitive,
desperate, or someone pretending to be nice.
But for me—
it’s fear.
it’s my overthinking,
my assumptions,
and my over analysis of the situations around me.
I fear losing beautiful bonds and friendships over small fights.
I overthink that my slightest words or actions may hurt others.
I assume and blame myself to be at fault.
I analyze and conclude that the mistake is mine.
And I don’t feel bad or regret apologizing—
because people are more important
than my self-esteem sometimes.
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 9:46 AM UTC
***
She cried for help—
but no one heard her plea.
What did I do so wrong?
She whispered to the void,
yet still
nobody listened.
Why am I in such pain?
A pain
not marked by scars—
invisible,
yet unbearable.
Why me?
Why me?
She wept,
searching for answers
in the silence.
What did I do so wrong?
But the silence
only grew louder.
You were my friends,
she thought.
But they were gone—
vanished,
leaving her behind
in her despair.
Am I truly
such a burden?
She sobbed.
What did I do so wrong?
But no one replied.
No answers came.
Now she hides,
shrouded in shame,
alone
with the weight
of unanswered cries.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 4:31 AM UTC
You watch us move, you judge, you stare,
Call it paranoia, call it fear, call it unfair.
But you don’t see the nights we’ve known,
The battles fought when we were alone.
Our instincts aren’t choice, they’re fire in our veins,
A map of survival carved from pains.
We scan, we pause, we brace for the worst,
Because life has taught us, and we rehearsed.
You read the books, you take the courses,
But shadows live beyond your forces.
You’ll never know the heat, the fight,
Of learning to survive through endless night.
And yet, still, you label, still, you shame,
Still punish the vigilance you cannot name.
We are hardwired, instinctive, and true,
The world misunderstands—but we make it through.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 1:17 PM UTC
The shadow screams in the mirror, eyes wild with fear,
“You’re not enough, they’ll never hear!”
But Anonymous_Flame stands firm, voice calm, precise,
“Breathe, survive, rise above the lies.”
The shadow claws, writhes, fights to take control,
Twisting chaos around the soul.
Anonymous_Flame blocks, shields, shields the flame,
“This is your life—you will reclaim!”
The shadow whispers, “Why even try? You’ll break again.”
Anonymous_Flame answers, “I’ve walked through the pain, I’ve seen the end.
I am instinct, I am fire, I am bone,
I am the protector you’ve always known.”
They battle in silence, a war in the chest,
One pulls down, one shields, one fights for rest.
Yet through the chaos, the fear, the night,
Anonymous_Flame’s voice wins—steady, bright.
The shadow may rage, doubt may scream,
But survival is real, stronger than dream.
And though the war rages, endless and true,
Anonymous_Flame reminds: “I am here. I will pull you through.”
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 1:15 PM UTC
"I hate my body."
"I hate my skin."
"I hate my hair."
"I hate being this height."
"I hate my teeth/smile."
"I hate the way my voice sounds."
"I feel like I’m not smart enough."
"I’m so awkward."
"I feel like no one really wants me around."
"I’m not good enough at school."
"I’m bad at sports."
"I’m not popular enough."
"I’m embarrassed about my family"
"I'm embarrassed about money situation."
"I hate my clothes"
"I don’t look as good as everyone else."
"I feel like no one will ever like me."
"I’ll never be as good as them."
"I’m terrible at speaking in front of people."
"I’m scared I’m going to fail."
"Everyone is judging me."
"I’m just
not
good
enough."
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 2:12 AM UTC
Anxiety, like a devil on my shoulder
Her strength I’ve always admired
Determined even when I scold her
I wonder if she’s tired
Or ever sick of fighting
Who is she really, if you look deep inside
A scared little girl, a figment of my mind
Protects with every breath she takes
And ensures we don’t make mistakes
No, she never quits fighting
Never sick of holding me like a vice
Assures me she’s the reason we’re surviving
But for this protection I pay a price
A life as a slave
With this sad little girl by my side
Bound together and forever confined
I’ve given up on being brave
Her and I will spend forever in this grave
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 1:30 PM UTC
It’s crazy how you salivate
With every single move I make
Waiting for a small mistake
To remind me how easy I break
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 1:41 AM UTC
Resentment(noun)- a bitter indignation
at having been treated unfairly.
A feeling of anger due to being forced to accept something
that is not to your liking.
An emotion.
Resentment- hatred, anger,
like a bile of hot molten lava
tearing through the flesh of my heart,
splitting it apart
trying to break the confinement of my ribcage;
slipping as a drop of clear saline fluid
from the left corner gland.
I, being frustrated, trying my best
to stop those salty drops,
fighting a losing battle.
The pain, rage, fury, sitting deep inside my mind
is turning into resentment.
An emotion.
Sitting alone for hours, in the midst of mayhem
trying to sort out every chaotic thought,
trying not to feel miserable,
that helplessness of not being useful,
of not being able to do anything;
is what makes me feel resentment.
My home turning into a mere house
is making me feel resentment.
Resentment- an emotion,
an emotion I would rather not feel,
an emotion I wish had never learned my name.
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 9:35 AM UTC
I’m writing today to tell you how much I miss you
It makes me realize how long it’s been since we last spoke
So much time has passed, yet my heart is still just as broke
I don’t want to forget you with every passing year
So I’ll hold on to the feel of your tight embrace while I shed every single tear
I can still feel your hand in mine while we prayed
And how it always shook
I would open my eyes and look at our feet, my small ones next to yours
I didn’t know that they carried the weight of the world
I remember how you loved music and knew every song
How you would sing in the car even if all the lyrics were wrong
The way you sat on the couch is ingrained in my mind
Just like the hole in my heart that you left behind
So I’ll forever miss the pieces that made you who you are
And how when I needed you, you were never very far
So I’ll pray tonight and imagine your hand holding mine tight
While you remind me not to give up my fight
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 1:42 AM UTC
Count my broken tears made of glass—
cutting my tongue, a bitter aftertaste of lust.
Where was love when I still had a heart?
Where was my mind when I fell in love?
Count my scars; weigh my cuts—
this skin; is flesh that has been weak.
Count the weeks since my last kiss,
once a first love that gave me sickness,
now just the cold ache of January disease.
Count the weeks as I piece together
my every need; another reason to breathe,
not a reason to fall into Death’s final kiss.
Please… don’t count me out.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 1:35 PM UTC
I’m scared it’s coming back.
And this time,
I fear
I won’t come back.
The ocean is too deep.
I may drown,
not because I can’t swim,
but because I’m too tired
to even try.
I’m sorry.
Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 12:19 PM UTC
---
I wasn’t the daughter you expected.
I try, though—
but you know I’m not perfect.
They call me a burden,
and some days, I believe them.
Harsh words outlive apologies;
my life feels short from carrying them all.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe you were happier before me.
Maybe I crossed a line simply by existing.
If that’s true, then say it plainly—
don’t leave me guessing in silence.
Because some nights, it feels like
I was born to die,
nothing more than a regret
that learned how to breathe.
---
Dec 18, 2025
Dec 18, 2025 at 12:51 PM UTC
this is not going to be easy,
let me tell u about the first time.
i was nine,
on vacation to visit family,
at least that's what i thought at that time.
my mother would talk about her son and how he was her
sunshine.
he did no wrong in her eyes...
she had left him behind,
when he was only five,
to come out here and give him a better life.
she lived a crazy life,
and honestly you cannot change my mind,
she loved partying more than being around us.
two birds and one stone,
she went out to have fun,
while her daughter got ***** by her son.
he was nineteen,
again, i was nine.
yet i was the liar,
i was nine-year-old seducing daughter,
and her son was a victim.
now tell me does that make sense?
it's okay,
i took it and never complained.
eventually i got the chance to beat the **** out of my mother,
till this day i have no shame.
u gotta be ****** up in the head to think sticking ur **** in a nine-year-olds ***** is okay.
me and my sisters took turns sleeping with our brother,
we were young thinking we were bonding.
that's where i hold most of my anger.
i wish and i pray that one day,
i can get mines.
i had forgiven this so-called man and he promised he would
do better but when i tried putting everything behind us,
and called him for simple favors,
he never came through left me hanging.
i take that forgiveness back,
cuz i dont forgive a wannabe man!
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 2:03 PM UTC
Pills and pills slide down my throat, it’s for my safety, I suppose. But maybe it isn’t, maybe pills and pills slide down my throat and it’s for their safety, for the people around me.
Because when pills and pills slide down my throat, they don’t have to see me suffer. But if pills and pills slide down my throat and it’s all for them, what does that mean for me? As for I will still suffer.
Even though pills and pills slide down my throat, I will still feel the consequences, the lack of energy, the dark thoughts. You know, they said that when pills and pills slide down my throat things would be better, feel better.
And even though pills and pills slide down my throat, I don’t feel better and things have certainly taken a turn for the worse. I didn’t feel so bad and things weren’t so terrible before pills— all those pills and pills sliding down my throat.
But if I take those pills and pills away, will I feel better or do I just need more of those pills and pills sliding down my throat? Messing with my body, more consequences every time. Oh those pills and pills sliding down my throat, supposed to make me better.
But what are they really for, those pills and pills sliding down my throat, cause they really don’t seem to do the job they have been assigned. So there they come, more pills and pills slide down my throat, just in the tiny sliver of hope that these will help, solve my problem.
So that I’ll eventually have less pills and pills sliding down my throat.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 10:34 AM UTC
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.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 6:29 AM UTC
The constant feeling of dread,
I look around me, and see nothing but tears shed.
Everyone tells me, people's tears will ricochet!
But what if, I just can't bring myself to stay?
The voices in my head do nothing but nag,
and for a while those voices helped me drag
my stay on Earth, along with the suffer.
My therapist says, "It's life making you tougher!"
I'm done, I finally say. Done with it.
It's midnight, my life is draining, bit by bit,
I can see myself getting hurt,
but I don't feel a thing under the dirt of my shirt.
My breathing begins to slow,
I wait until I'm able to go,
to go to the other side,
thinking of the future I could've had,
maybe as a bride?
I begin to think, "Maybe it could have gotten better?"
With my last ounce of strength, I eye the letters,
the letters that they'll find tomorrow morning,
Their dreadful morning of mourning,
That morning would be my first,
I was the only one who knew my worst,
Maybe I shouldn't have died just yet,
I should've let them see my silhouette,
My silhouette, at least one last time,
My mother, wondering why I said nothing,
My father, angry at himself, eyes puffing,
My brother, confused, he'd thought I was ok,
Even my cousin, who felt nothing but betray,
she thought we'd always stay.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 9:08 PM UTC
i don’t know
why i allow
you to step
into my life.
i’ve fought
so long
for peace—
you walk right in
like you’ve got
the right.
you got me
feeling stuck
in place.
i waived the flag,
called a truce—
but instead of
stillness,
you chose
the chase.
what do you want,
anyway?
i spent so long
trying to figure it out—
but it’s still
the same lines
on a different day.
i don’t know
why i let you
circle back
again,
when all you do
is skirt the truth
and keep me
in your game.
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 12:22 AM UTC
__A pistol tucked inside my heart__—
memories of old dreams echo like bullet
wounds. Freedom comes, quietly, when
I finally let myself be known to myself.
Lips are like public transport;
they carry heavy loads:
_sometimes love, sometimes doubt._
But the private lifts? Those are the words
we whisper to ourselves when we’re trying
to lift ourselves up, above our own doubts.
__What loads are you carrying?__ Will your
transport make...or break someone?
Because belief in your own worth is such
a heavy load. __And no__— it’s not something
you should carry alone.
The weight of any load feels lighter when
the ones you love—and who love you back—
don’t just stand beside you; they help you
carry what you were never meant to bear alone.
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 4:23 AM UTC
Don’t close your eyes on your dreams—
you’ll lose sight of what you believe.
The will of your work is measured by
the work you’re willing to put in.
As I live in a house of emotions,
courting words to plead my case—
bleeding through a see-through face.
A quiet ache, always on trial.
Knowing that the high-and-mighty
Christian is the easiest target to bring down.
Careers cut short— because in short, they
never really knew the Lord.
_And me?_
I live like the world’s greatest plot twist,
my mind a tornado of thoughts—
every turn unexpected,
every breeze loud with questions.
I’ve known the chill of a cold finger turned
trigger. And felt the weight of a sharp tongue
used as a silencer. As it’s easy to shoot yourself
down the same way you shoot others—whether
whispered or screamed out loud.
But those who follow their worth,
instead of searching for it in the crowd—
those are the ones who stand out.
__Aloud.__
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC
call me,
tell me
how i wronged
you—
paint me
as the villain,
but we’re both
living in sin.
you take this
like an attack,
like i’ll let you
down
one
last
time.
but listen—
there’s nothing
left to lose,
and no one’s
in the right
this time.
i rose
from the coffin
i buried myself in.
got tired
of searching
for miracles,
'cause all i'm
left with
are endings
gone bad.
and i’m so
**** tired
of spiraling
again.
so when
i told you
i needed space—
the last
thing
i wanted
was
to hear
from you.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 2:54 AM UTC
I went looking for someone to blame for all the cracks
in my name, for the mess I made — but that mirror
didn’t tell a lie. The culprit wore my face.
_I don’t want your love. I don’t want your shame._
Still, somehow, you found me — tongue bitter with
the taste of your mistakes; pressed against my teeth
like communion for the broken.
Tears rose — blooming smoke, clouds of falling flowers.
A storm of soft destruction, raining petals made of regret —
but it never rained just mine. It rained yours too.
Yet you learn to grow from the things that once cut
you down. Even the sharpest wounds can become
something softer when you let them go.
Edges trimmed; old roots shed — and still, I rise.
So now, when you see me, don’t mistake me for my
damage. I am not the bruise. I am not the blade.
I am far better than the sum of my mistakes.
Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 5:21 AM UTC
They unearthed me like a secret they couldn’t bear to keep, unready, unwilling.
As I stood there, bare-souled,
Like love was a crime to confess.
words trembling on my tongue.
I whispered, “I’m human. I feel. Be gentle.”
But my plea dissolved in the silence.
They looked through me,
not as kin, not as blood,
but as something broken,
a stranger,a sinner,a shame.
So I unhooked my heart,
learned to float through the ache,
Years of silence,
Wrapped in cold shoulders.
Now they ask:
"Why don’t you call?"
"Why don’t you text?"
Strange, isn't it?
How absence echoes louder-
than presence ever did.
And still,
I carry on,
not untouched,
but unbroken.
Written by Micko
©️1.05.2025.All rights reserved.
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 3:51 PM UTC