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#resilence
Healing, True healing; Not just surface wounds But deep healing, Takes place from the inside out — When we continue to focus On the road ahead, The ground still to claim And the visions to obtain The victories often fade — But, it is joyful to remember: When I couldn't walk, When I couldn't talk, When I couldn't hear, And with great fear Believed that my sight would remain Irrevocably damaged. The ginormous battles that I’d fight, The poems perculating, but didn’t write. All my striving, Robs my thriving — So, today I stop, Turn, look back And remember, The path trodden And struggles and ordeals overcame that I've forgotten!
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Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 3:27 PM UTC
Don't forget how far you've come!
Broken crayons do colour They might have snapped me on the inside But my ends My ends still colour Yes I may not tell the story like others do But my story still matters My story is quite unique But we are all still made of the same wax Some of us just have a lot to lose Our lights are not as bright as others We walk half empty,half full We faced battles much earlier We are much hollow But my ends still do colour You see I might be able to be repaired on the inside but I still do colour I colour much more carefully not trying to smudge the edges I colour much harder than you do But I still colour Beacause my ends still colour I might be snapped in the middle But broken crayons still colour
0
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
Broken crayons still colour
to those who are struggling out loud or in silence, this is for you. whether you have a broken heart, life is falling apart, you might've failed art, or you're simply looking for a restart--carry on and don't allow yourself to fall apart. azure skies scintillating above us all when our facades intertwine but nighttime is when the authentic sentiment starts to really shine. and it turns out, you're really not fine. you've been doing this dance of disguise for quite some time now like a second nature routine and falling in between, but you were never really seen. you feel like it'll never get better and **** i know exactly what you mean. summer dream ripped at the seam, and now you're stifling a frustrated scream as you begin to once again rediscover your self-esteem. i'm here to tell you it's always been there; you just have to scrutinize otherwise this self-deprecation will really result in your demise. foci laced with confusion as you wonder why you're enduring this circumstance, it's because you stand a fighting chance. you are a person that struggle will never be able to define. you are so amazing and doing all that you can to overcome your troubles so just like those emotions--you can shine. maybe you aren't now, but you will be fine and i will be cheering you on from the frontline in every given timeline. life may be hard for all of us, but you are never alone. the weight of life and stress that comes with it is no longer yours to bear. grab a chair so you can sit and stare while i take care of this nightmare since we have no ******* clue how it got there. it takes a while to repair a wounded heart, so prepare for the long journey ahead and take care. life is difficult, but none of us have to endure alone. remember to breathe, reach out to your loved ones, and let them take the burden off your shoulders so you can rest awhile. love always, katrina
0
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:49 PM UTC
the weight we share
to those who are struggling out loud or in silence, this is for you. whether you have a broken heart, life is falling apart, you might've failed art, or you're simply looking for a restart--carry on and don't allow yourself to fall apart. azure skies scintillating above us all when our facades intertwine but nighttime is when the authentic sentiment starts to really shine. and it turns out, you're really not fine. you've been doing this dance of disguise for quite some time now like a second nature routine and falling in between, but you were never really seen. you feel like it'll never get better and **** i know exactly what you mean. summer dream ripped at the seam, and now you're stifling a frustrated scream as you begin to once again rediscover your self-esteem. i'm here to tell you it's always been there; you just have to scrutinize otherwise this self-deprecation will really result in your demise. foci laced with confusion as you wonder why you're enduring this circumstance, it's because you stand a fighting chance. you are a person that struggle will never be able to define. you are so amazing and doing all that you can to overcome your troubles so just like those emotions--you can shine. maybe you aren't now, but you will be fine and i will be cheering you on from the frontline in every given timeline. life may be hard for all of us, but you are never alone. the weight of life and stress that comes with it is no longer yours to bear. grab a chair so you can sit and stare while i take care of this nightmare since we have no ******* clue how it got there. it takes a while to repair a wounded heart, so prepare for the long journey ahead and take care. life is difficult, but none of us have to endure alone. remember to breathe, reach out to your loved ones, and let them take the burden off your shoulders so you can rest awhile. love always, katrina
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11
& Suddenly there was a shift her beauty lit up the room She created more space for her gift issuing an eviction notice to gloom what she thought was dead Had been surely ressurected no matter how much or how little was said You could find her unaffected Her attention now directed Centered & refocused & they all felt it Joy; where she was once hopeless a light began to shine A brave moment a midst a hearts strife it was far beyond time To become the love of her own life <3 xoxo
0
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
Love Now & Love Then
Worn thin tree branches break. But the roots grow ever still; her heart wrapped in scars, yet deep inside of her there remains love.
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Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
Endurance
A dusty path beneath my feet, My worries fade with each step, Leaving the past behind. Green fields wave to hopeful songs, As the horizon stretches open, And a new day waits to greet me. My worn boots carry a heavy heart, Breaking the chains of yesterday. As sunlight breaks through the grey clouded by sadness sky, And liberation calls with a soothing voice, Promising a fresh beginning. I feel wild grasses brush against me, As shattered paths mend themselves. Silence fills my distracted mind, Distant trees rise in understanding, And letting go becomes my strength, As the future blooms like wildflowers. The countryside embraces me, As the healing winds of change blow, Miles unwind like a silent threads, Breaking free from what once was, As each step forward builds courage, Walking towards a new dawn. ©️Lizzie Bevis
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Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 4:26 AM UTC
Clearing the Mind
The road stretched long after my feet learned their first uncertain truths. Days blurred into pale horizons, and nights pressed in with a cold that felt less like weather and more like the world testing how badly I wanted to continue. I walked through valleys where the wind whispered old accusations. Past barren fields where the earth seemed to judge every step I took with its quiet, unblinking patience. There were crossroads that offered comfort only to withdraw it. Doors that opened just far enough for me to see what warmth was, before closing as if to say, “Not you. Not yet.” Every place I tried felt like a room built for people who still had their armor their shine, their certainty, their practiced ways of belonging. My bare presence made the air awkward. Made the floors creak. Made me feel like a traveler who had forgotten the language everyone else still spoke. The cold tightened its grip. My breath grew thin. And in those long stretches of frost I understood that the world does not welcome the unarmored easily. It demands endurance before it offers shelter. And then through a gap in the trees a glow. A soft, steady light, unlike the bright, defensive lanterns of the other places. This light felt like memory, like recognition, like something calling me by a name I hadn’t earned but somehow belonged to. The building stood alone, weathered and quiet, with a kind of patience that suggested it had waited for everyone who had ever arrived there. A simple sign hung above the door: Sinners Lodge I stepped inside, expecting the familiar hush that sharp pause that follows a stranger into a guarded room. But nothing stopped. No one stared. The warmth did not shrink away from my unsteady presence. A voice near the fire —calm, unstartled— said without looking up: “You can let down your armor here.” Even though I carried none, my chest loosened as if something I’d held too tightly finally recognized it could rest. There were no tests here. No rooms designed to expose my flaws. No cold edge of judgment waiting behind the warmth. Only a quiet truth: this was not a place for the perfect. It was a refuge for those who had walked far enough to shed the illusions that once carried them. In the dim firelight, I felt the weight of the journey settle not on me, but beside me as if saying: “You made it. Not because you were flawless, but because you kept walking.” I let the warmth enter my hands, slow and grounding, and for the first time in a long wander, I felt sheltered without having to earn it. Unarmored Unafraid And finally awake.
0
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
Sinners Lodge
The road stretched long after my feet learned their first uncertain truths. Days blurred into pale horizons, and nights pressed in with a cold that felt less like weather and more like the world testing how badly I wanted to continue. I walked through valleys where the wind whispered old accusations. Past barren fields where the earth seemed to judge every step I took with its quiet, unblinking patience. There were crossroads that offered comfort only to withdraw it. Doors that opened just far enough for me to see what warmth was, before closing as if to say, “Not you. Not yet.” Every place I tried felt like a room built for people who still had their armor their shine, their certainty, their practiced ways of belonging. My bare presence made the air awkward. Made the floors creak. Made me feel like a traveler who had forgotten the language everyone else still spoke. The cold tightened its grip. My breath grew thin. And in those long stretches of frost I understood that the world does not welcome the unarmored easily. It demands endurance before it offers shelter. And then through a gap in the trees a glow. A soft, steady light, unlike the bright, defensive lanterns of the other places. This light felt like memory, like recognition, like something calling me by a name I hadn’t earned but somehow belonged to. The building stood alone, weathered and quiet, with a kind of patience that suggested it had waited for everyone who had ever arrived there. A simple sign hung above the door: Sinners Lodge I stepped inside, expecting the familiar hush that sharp pause that follows a stranger into a guarded room. But nothing stopped. No one stared. The warmth did not shrink away from my unsteady presence. A voice near the fire —calm, unstartled— said without looking up: “You can let down your armor here.” Even though I carried none, my chest loosened as if something I’d held too tightly finally recognized it could rest. There were no tests here. No rooms designed to expose my flaws. No cold edge of judgment waiting behind the warmth. Only a quiet truth: this was not a place for the perfect. It was a refuge for those who had walked far enough to shed the illusions that once carried them. In the dim firelight, I felt the weight of the journey settle not on me, but beside me as if saying: “You made it. Not because you were flawless, but because you kept walking.” I let the warmth enter my hands, slow and grounding, and for the first time in a long wander, I felt sheltered without having to earn it. Unarmored Unafraid And finally awake.
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108
These battered wings still soar Beneath clouds of gathered storms, You, miraculous survivor, Are teaching others how to fly. In your bruised hands, You hold fragments of others' hope Like precious stones, Polishing their troubles away. How strange and beautiful, That from your deepest wells of pain Springs this endless fountain Of so much kindness. They'll never know The weight of the hurt you've carried, As you transform the darkness Into a lamp for lost souls. You are the paradox, Broken and whole, Scarred and healing, Empty and overflowing. Your gentle soul speaks In the language of second chances, Showing that there is hope To every invisible heart. ©️Lizzie Bevis
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Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 8:43 PM UTC
In Kindness and Pain