#mentalhealthpoetry
Black sleep can’t be seen
when they are kept in the dark.
How can I leave my mark?
I want to be seen—
a silhouette drowning in a dream,
the puddle ripples with hues of green,
shimmering lies where truth had been.
I search for signs, for steady ground,
but confusion swells where there are no landmarks found.
My compass spins in this shadowed land,
I reach for light, but touch only sand.
I feel lost, no map to tear,
no path, no flame, just stale, cold air.
I am tired of the fight,
of stitching wounds in endless night.
Sadly, I have lost the sight—
not just of stars, but of my own spark,
dimmed to a whisper,
curled in the dark.
Still, something in me waits.
Not hope… but hunger.
A quiet throb beneath the ache—
the need to wake,
to surface,
to break.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 10:37 PM UTC
I did not break.
I adapted.
The Watcher —
eyes sharp,
pulse wired,
reading danger before it breathed.
Paranoia, I called her.
Trauma, she was.
The Fire —
love fiercely or lose everything.
Cut first. Burn first. Strike first.
Too much, I said.
Fear of being left, she was.
The Pleaser —
soft voice, over-giving hands,
apologising before words formed.
Weak, I called her.
Survival, she was.
The Ghost —
blank eyes, drifting,
watching my own life
like it belonged elsewhere.
Broken, I called her.
Protection, she was.
The Shadow —
heavy, quiet, pressing in,
carrying pain that threatened to consume me.
Shame, I called her.
Survival, she was.
The Fighter —
back straight, pride stubborn,
homeless but unbowed,
fear in one hand, pride in the other.
Cold, I called her.
She was surviving.
Years passed —
doors closed.
Trust shattered.
Safety disappeared.
Mind split into extremes —
safe or unsafe,
love or loss,
forever or never.
Nervous system alarmed.
Every raised voice,
every pause,
every shadow
a threat.
I thought I was unstable.
Difficult.
Disordered.
But I was dysregulated.
Unhealed.
Running from fires that were already over.
Every mask had a job.
The Watcher prevented danger.
The Fire prevented abandonment.
The Pleaser prevented conflict.
The Ghost prevented collapse.
The Shadow prevented being consumed.
The Fighter prevented defeat.
They kept me breathing
when I did not know how to live.
Healing came slowly —
pausing when the chest tightened,
questioning what was real,
staying when survival screamed run.
I am still healing.
Some days the Watcher wakes first.
Some days the Fire flares.
Some days the Ghost drifts.
Some days the Shadow presses heavy.
But now I notice.
Now I breathe.
Now I choose.
I do not hate the masks.
They built me.
They carried me.
They survived for me.
I am not just survival now.
I am regulation in progress.
Attachment learning safety.
Nervous system slowly trusting
that not every shadow
is a threat.
I am softer —
but not weaker.
Aware —
but not ruled by fear.
I am not cured.
I am becoming.
Stronger than any mask
ever made me.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 4:33 AM UTC
Drank a whole year at twenty-four,
Almost thought my liver forgot its job.
Fingertip burns; losing streaks,
******* rivers of regret;
I can't swim through.
Christian tears only fall
When I’m bargaining with God...
It’s human.
Heaven’s promised tomorrow,
The next day feels like hell.
Sunday first, Mondays again.
Fall to my knees, fall out of my pleas;
Jack of all trades, jacking myself up
Just to cope; barter trade myself
Just to get by; I rearrange stars
Behind closed eyes.
Please Lord, take me back home
To that poem— lost in its world,
Far from this broken one, in pieces...
I broke down in my very first poem
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 4:03 PM UTC
i saw my faults
for the first time in years.
not a revelation,
more like reopening a file
i renamed and buried.
an old wound.
still active.
just better hidden.
nothing collapsed.
nothing needed to.
the truth didn’t shout.
it logged itself.
my mind runs
like software on low battery.
everything works,
just slower,
just heavier,
just one function away
from freezing.
i wake up pre‑exhausted,
like the day already happened
and i’m late to recover from it.
not tired of effort,
tired of me
being the thing that needs managing.
i filter myself constantly.
edit before speaking.
erase before promising.
i don’t call it growth.
i call it damage control.
people expect warmth.
i offer weatherproofing.
intention evaporates
somewhere between thought and action.
all my good ideas
fog up and vanish
before they can mean anything.
i stay small
the way fires do
when there’s nothing left to burn.
somewhere in all this
i misplaced myself.
not lost;
misplaced.
like something set down carefully
and never picked up again.
survival replaced living
without asking permission.
now my days feel temporary,
like scaffolding around a building
no one plans to finish.
when it gets too heavy
to keep monitoring myself,
i turn toward God.
not dramatically.
not faithfully.
just directionally.
the way gravity isn’t a belief,
it’s a pull.
i don’t come whole.
i come reduced.
parts missing.
labels worn off.
and still,
God remains
unmoved by the condition i arrive in.
i ask to become better
without trusting my definition of better.
i’ve followed it before.
it keeps leading me
back here.
self‑awareness hasn’t changed me.
it’s just made the repetition
impossible to deny.
there’s a pressure in my chest,
not pain;
compression.
like something essential
is being archived instead of used.
nothing leaks outward.
everything corrodes inward.
hatred refined,
distilled,
stored safely inside the container
it came in.
i don’t imagine a healed version of myself.
only a quieter one.
less weight.
less reach.
someone who passes through rooms
like a thought you almost had
but didn’t finish.
this isn’t despair.
it’s inventory.
this is me
measuring my own gravity,
learning how not to pull
everything else
down with me,
and still turning toward God;
not because i am hopeful,
but because nothing else
allows me to arrive
empty
and remain.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 5:10 AM UTC
Feeling like a door
falling off its hinges—
faith hinging on the day’s events.
Eventually, we learn to fall.
falling into what ifs; fears,
failures, depression, out of friend
groups, into feelings — in & out
of our dreams ; in & out of love…
And just like my bedroom door
falling off its hinges— what’s left
to hide my shame?
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 4:33 PM UTC
The darkness takes me, rises and falls again.
The tunnel opens and stretches along my path.
An angel, perhaps you can stop me from my miserable fate.
You are the light that accompanies me and manages to bring me back to the surface.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 4:00 PM UTC
Umbrella terms for the verse—
kept an extra dollar in my phone cover
for a rainy day, just in case.
Courting my days until judgment day,
wondering if faith takes card or cash,
or if there’s a direct line to the man
upstairs—
’cause these blessings keep pouring
and my umbrella’s got holes in it.
And all of the things we’ve created,
wouldn’t you want be called the greatest?
Colouring my hopes in white, to the joys
of a racist— simple options just to live,
all in this really complicated life.
No one’s ever created basic,
so praises to the
Greatest.
Breaking away mirrors
just to dodge self-reflection.
Don’t cry in the clear water,
the image looking back isn’t that impressive.
And I’m not so good at first impressions;
always coming off a little
under the weather.
Still thank God for umbrella terms,
to explain how I’m feeling.
The patient patient— trying to master
more patience, while taking care of more
patients.
Thank God for umbrella terms, just to explain
how glad I am that
I made it.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 4:55 PM UTC
There’s a girl at school
with porcelain skin,
white as snow—
but her wrists
are covered in red lines.
I had to report it
to the administration.
It was the right thing to do.
I don’t know if she knows
it was me.
But now she lingers
in the principal’s office,
her face even paler,
nauseous,
locking herself
in the bathroom.
I fear I’ve made public
what was sacredly private
in her universe—
and that it may get worse.
My chest feels heavy
imagining what she might do
to herself,
if they don’t care for her
the right way.
Because once,
I was a girl
just like her.
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
You didn’t want to die,
you wanted to be seen.
You didn’t want to hurt yourself,
you wanted to be held.
You didn’t want the company of pain,
you wanted the company of someone.
It’s not about simply
“eliminating” the symptom—
but listening
to what it says.
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 9:41 AM UTC
Under the sunlight, I am only a candle,
shaking in the arms of the slightest breeze.
It’s pretty, like youth they speak of in poems,
but it never lands the same on me.
Anger, comparison, insecurity, my heavy breath.
Tears and these headphones
are the only air I know how to breathe.
Loving myself
harder than teaching fire to bow to the earth.
Gravity feels kinder than grace.
Yet in the caves where no one remembers the way,
I can still paint the dark in gold.
I can still make the cold feel warm.
I am needed.
I am loved.
Sometimes.
So tell me
do I give my light to this moment,
spill every flame into the night,
or keep it sleeping in my chest,
fearing the day when morning arrives
with a sun too cruel to touch,
and a rain too tender to notice
when it drowns me?
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 7:38 AM UTC
Sit with it, a moth ball grown with salty remarks, take a deep breath to compose yourself and nuture their sore ideas of you ,hoard open wounds to leverage over morality
Soaring these words,you engraved on my skin , soon to sail these waves of malignance that boil in me, consequence is nothing but the bittersweet aftertaste of dark chocolate for the excruciating torture i'll inflict onto you will bring an end to my cold sweats
these aren't inchoate feelings but spawns of postponed smiles. Now, how do i drive them into suicide
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 10:21 PM UTC
On that fall, I felt my heart become an unseen ravine,
Ever-closing grooves , a new crack with every step.
Descending like a feather into this bottomless silence.
I could already see the stars fading ,
Stars that once lit the sky like the peerless sun,
Stars that left no room for darkness to creep,
Stars that watched over me.
Now I must play hide and seek.
City lights bearing down ,it wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes,
But the despair that followed,
As I began to lose my way home , the only night I ever trusted.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
i try to see
the bright side
every day,
but deep down,
i’m scared—
my nerves
frayed,
worn thin
like overused threads.
i spent years
simply surviving,
keeping my head low,
waiting
for the right timing
to make it out
unscathed.
but cuts
and scrapes
still touch the surface,
and the light
inside my heart
flickers—
on repeat.
i know
what it’s like
to feel something,
but life
isn’t fair,
and the pain
i bear
makes me question:
will i remain
broken forever?
or will i
break free
from this cycle—
free from
the fear—
and like a phoenix,
take flight,
rise from the ashes,
and finally
fix my broken heart?
Jun 29, 2025
Jun 29, 2025 at 7:27 AM UTC
Bite into an idea— rows of teeth, tension tight.
Crowded smiles feel so exposing— _but this one,_
it gnaws deeper. The tension between teething
regrets and tethered faith feels so frayed, as if
the cord was always a little too short to begin
with.
I’m not riding the wave— just swimming a little
longer in my dreams; watching surfers sail off
while I sink into thought. But I surf the internet,
researching the cultivation of infinitude—
_whatever that means._ Diving into unfathomable
depths, only a few steps in and I’m already losing
my breath.
__Have I sprouted yet__? Most days, my sadness
drowns in my anger. Then a spark of joy appears—
_brief_, __fleeting__— but its glow only makes me
so sad again. And that sadness simmers back into
rage, and the loop begins once more.
_A cycle.
A seesaw._
A silent crusade to love myself again.
But the journey never really ends. Even while
searching for one. we push forward—again,
and again— until we find a better end.
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC
In a brief squeeze, my chest _wheezed_—
there goes my heart, falling out of itself,
into another rhyme, into another line.
Queue me up for feeling less than myself,
lost in being so lost.
Letting go of old grievances just to make
room for new ones today.
“I’m not okay”—
but I won’t say it, because you MAYBE
won’t think of me the same.
Sometimes I’m determined, other times,
indulgent. I look like I’ve got it together,
but beneath the surface,
_I’m exhausted_—
completely out of order.
_Struggling. Sweating._
But short on words to explain what’s wrong.
I’d be seen as too much for speaking my
pain aloud— but pain is always louder
when it’s silent.
So I speak now for those who are just like
I am.
__We are We__:
navigating identity crises in these
stretched-out teen years of our twenties.
We are plenty— and still enough to
surround each other in love that counts,
instead of letting life count us down
or count us out. We will rise. __Together.__
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 3:40 PM UTC
_The sky is falling_—
ashes in slow motion,
raining smoke laced with doubt.
I’m trying to figure things out – trapped inside
of my mind, trying to map a way out.
Time wears you down like a borrowed face.
Money races laps around your mind—
and we’re all so deeply
invested in the chase.
I think __locomotive__ thoughts—
every train of thought heavier than the last—
but somehow, I keep losing track of time.
But what is time,
if not something that’s never mine?
We spend every second like a dime—
but not every moment
is worth the time.
I dress up for someone else’s moment,
tailor my soul to suit their life—
wearing joy like it’s rented, hoping the fit feels right.
Every mistake I remember from yesterday
becomes a brushstroke in the picture I paint today—
a portrait of someone better
hanging up in my frame of mind.
_And maybe, just maybe,
there lies the real way
to fit in._
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 10:22 AM UTC
like a car crash,
explosions fill
my head
emotional wreckage—
thoughts tangled
in dread
am i the problem?
or are they
projecting
instead?
i let go
of the wheel
just to
feel something—
go off the rails,
’cause sanity
feels surreal.
am i the problem?
or just
trapped in
my head?
because dealing
with this
is harder
than i ever
imagined.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 2:01 PM UTC
waking up
in a haze,
state of delirium—
where am i at?
i look in the
mirror and see
a reflection
of someone
i used to know.
i need a place
to escape—
all i wanted
was to protect
my peace
and be safe.
the waves
come and go,
emotional
instability,
barreling toward
insecurity:
here i go.
all i wanted
was only love—
but that was
taken away,
and i’m left
with all
the blame.
you say
i broke you
down—
but all i
ever wanted
was to build
us up—
and the
foundation
was shaky
ground.
waking up
in a haze,
i fight
to stay awake.
please, god,
let the rain
wash away—
and take away
my pain.
because i
don’t want
to go another day
getting
carried
away.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 3:25 AM UTC
I’ve got diamond eyes, but don’t see myself so clear,
All the excited boys make the most noise,
Yet __depression only needs to whisper in an ear.__
Words are prison bars; speaking highly of yourself
the danger of being handed a lengthy sentence–
__Booked in the library of time;__ days sitting on a shelf.
… waiting to be read
Let me stay shelved a little longer— _reading up,
leading up,_ dreaming of a story still becoming
Between the lines; silent – even good stories gather dust
These tales of triumph still tarnish and rust…
Don't judge by how loud or how fast it all looks—
even the best stories get forgotten in books…
__misunderstood!__
Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC
Social Anxiety,
Doesn't mean that I'm weird,
You don't know me at all,
And I'll make it very clear,
I have many talents,
That you don't even see,
I'm good at many things,
And that's what makes me me.
When I go out,
I get quite overwhelmed,
The panic attacks are awful,
self conciousness turned up to 10,
I get mean looks
everywhere from strangers,
Staring into my face,
Trying to read me like a newspaper.
Getting laughed at isn't nice,
It doesn't help at all,
How would you like to be made feel, So very small?
Calling me awkward,
Making me feel like I'm less,
But wouldn't you act the same out in public,
If your mind was a ****** mess?
Step into my shoes,
And I'll give you what I have,
Is it funny anymore?
Now do you feel very bad?
You were mean to me,
When I was struggling like this,
How does it feel in my shoes,
If the perspective was switched?
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 4:30 PM UTC
Today an old friend came to visit.
Not completely unannounced, but
not particularly invited.
The kind of friend
that once served you well,
but their ways grew outdated
when you made it out of hell.
When the pain settled to trauma,
it became entirely something else.
But your friend thinks they know best
and give involuntary help.
The kind of friend
that's over bearing
and embeds into
the skin you're wearing.
Stitching in bad habits.
Manifesting your mistakes.
The friend you try to distance from,
but you can't seem to shake.
The kind of friend
you grow apart from
once your time there
is done.
Even though you're better off,
you still wonder where they are.
The kind of friend you dearly miss,
but must love them from afar.
Well, that friend...
Came knocking at my skull today.
(They told me they might be in town,
but I didn't bother to reply.)
Quick, shut off all the lights.
Quiet, try to hide.
Maybe if I'm gone,
they won't try to come inside.
But resting in the silence,
is a small child's cry.
And they know exactly,
where,
to find
me.
▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Feb 5, 2024
Feb 5, 2024 at 5:29 AM UTC
I don't know how
To get her home,
Or if she has one...
Does 𝘴𝘩𝘦 even know?
If I reached out my hand,
Would she even pull?
She's been making herself larger.
I can feel her reappearance.
She gets brighter, I get darker.
Interfering with my impulse,
And it happened again...
I forgot how I got here,
Don't where I began.
▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC
She calls and cries,
But there are only echoes
Bouncing on the walls
Of my empty chest.
She is forgotten.
She gets pushed aside.
𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥?
.
▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Jan 27, 2022
Jan 27, 2022 at 1:36 AM UTC
A riveting fracture
Of my current existence.
Clenching my throat,
Trying to squeeze out the dread;
The panic.
I've lost myself -
I don't know where I am, or
Where my body is.
Tense. Because
I'm trying so hard
Not to let go of myself,
Again.
"Keep straight.
Keep focused.
No.
Not like that.
Don't think 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁
About 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
Don't be that way
About 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨.
It's okay.
Try to breathe.
You have control
Over your mind.
𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹
Over your mind.
𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹
𝗢𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱."
And it's okay
For a moment,
But the busy hands
Don't shield the silence
For long.
And through that
It comes spinning,
Entwining amongst
My conscious hardwiring.
"You are not welcome!
I don't want to believe it."
But I've been deeply imprinted
To believe
These emotional rules
Are bound to me.
So, often I break;
I give in.
The sheer loneliness
Of the thought
Consumes me.
I wait in the rain,
For when the storm dissipates,
𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.
▪︎mica light▪︎
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 5:36 PM UTC
I'm trying to get better at sitting with my self
(we’re in this 'til the end, after all).
I'm trying to listen and not judge,
to ask her (kindly) where those thoughts came from.
Whose judgments are being repeated.
It's not that it's a comfortable journey.
She hurls words in poisoned darts,
with wild eyes of blistering flame,
so sure of my faults that
I believe her more than I've believed anything
in our whole life.
But I know what it's like to be in her body.
So lately I've asked her to sit next to me, quietly,
just for a moment,
just for a pause.
I think it's working.
She's taken to sitting beside me more often these days,
arms wrapped around hunched knees.
She speaks gentler here,
tells me I am scared we are not enough.
But she lets me place a hand on her shoulder,
and remind her: We always have been.
We breathe slowly as we soundlessly observe
the cosmic traffic of shooting neurons.
Of clusters of clusters of memories
and half-said things.
And I'm finding that, after all this time,
I am sitting well with myself.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 12:57 PM UTC