#silentsuffering
A hand wrapped around your throat.
Every once in a while squeezing a little harder.
To remind you of the control it has over your happiness..
Playing mind games from time to time,
Letting you experience the taste of joy. Only the very next second to be flung back into the pit you could have sworn you were almost out of.
Light is an illusion.
The hope you once had everytime you saw it dwindles.
You eventually find yourself turning your back on it.
You don't stretch out your hand anymore.
You don't try anymore.
You don't believe anymore.
Who you were, who you could have been is slowly swallowed by the darkness.
Color is no more.
Life is no more.
Never knowing what you did to deserve it.
Only knowing that you do.....
Deserve it that is........
I don't ask questions anymore.
"Why" is a repeated pointless word with no answer.
So I made up my own.
"There is no why. It is only what it is, it is just you."
The hand squeezes until death becomes you.
Fight as you might some of us won't make it.
Blood shot eyes of my soul, I might not make it.
One simple fact,
I'm not gonna make it.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
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.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 8:46 PM UTC
The same date returns,
and so do the tears,
pouring quietly into my soul.
I hate the days that remember me.
Days that whisper pain
like it never left.
Sometimes I wish
I was never born into this world,
where emptiness settles
inside a broken heart.
This heaviness in my chest
steals my breath,
and I ask the same questions—
why?
Why do those around me
notice me only when I falter,
yet look away
when I give them everything I am?
People disappoint me.
Family disappoints me.
Friends disappoint me.
And I disappoint myself—
for staying kind,
for caring too deeply,
when love was never returned
the same way.
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 9:02 AM UTC
When you find your person,
Feel that connection,
There’s a kind of longing that you’ll experience when they're away
That you’ve never known before.
The body holds just as many memories as the mind,
Sometimes more.
I can numb my mind as much as I’d like,
Tune out my heart that’s putting up more of a fight,
But I can never silence my body.
My body aches for you,
My chest longs to be filled.
When I finally have you back in my arms,
Love circling us as we hug,
I finally feel complete again.
I thought it would be easy,
Not having you around so much.
I’ll just do what I normally do,
Numb my mind,
Numb my heart.
I know what I feel for you is real
Because my body longs for you.
My lungs don’t feel as if they’re getting enough air when I don’t have you breathing beside me,
My hands feel empty,
Weighted,
If I don’t have your hands in mine.
This is beyond lust,
Beyond desire,
This is love,
This is real.
I don’t need you inside me,
I don’t need you kissing me,
I don’t need your tongue, or lips, or hands.
I just need you,
Your breath,
Your heartbeat.
I want your arms wrapped around me in a hug,
I want to know that I have you,
That you won’t leave,
Because no one else could take your place.
No one could fill the space you’ve created in my heart.
It’s molding to you specifically.
I’ll always long for you,
And that is what’s going to hurt the most.
Because we have our own lives,
(Even though mine is slowly becoming you)
Our own wishes and dreams and goals.
And our path for the next few years,
Don’t line up…
We’ll be thousands of miles apart,
And I’ll long for you all the same.
Because love is a string,
That can’t be severed by any distance,
No place that it can’t reach.
I can only hope and pray,
That my Heavenly Father,
Will provide me with a means to ease the ache while you’re away,
Or that it will lessen over time,
Because every moment you’re away
Will be a moment of silent suffering.
Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 12:38 AM UTC
Cross my tears, lose my eyes—
these feelings fall as sadness starts to rise.
I lose my space to lose my mind; I cross
my hopes and pray they survive the night.
My joy feels too old; these skins
want to die young—tired, stretched thin
from wearing sorrow too long. I feel like
a blade that’s forgotten how to shine.
Rust gathers under my lips;
I’ve spoken too much to the voices
in my head— and all of them,
_all of them_ just want me dead.
Static feelings stuck in my sweater—
crying, even when it’s warm; cos I
don’t own a sweater, just a hoodie—
Something to cover my soul when I
feel like a ghost in daylight.
In my reflection, an invisible hand
gives me an invisible middle finger.
Even my mirror won’t look me in the eye.
These lips— they started off soft;
now they’re triggers, eager to flip
me off, shoot me down.
I am the despised poet— too hideous
even in my sweet dreams— this is
the real version of me: _unwritten,
unwanted, unmoved._
My soul’s literature is tired—
not of bleeding, but of no one
noticing it still bleeds.
And truth be told... I know the
purest colour of feeling blue.
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 9:44 AM UTC
Darling, you are the trail of salty cheeks and all the sin that reeks.
You cried after your very first kiss—the kind that tasted like lies,
the kind that convinced you it might last. But lust? Lust is just
deceit in disguise— a beautiful trick of the mouth. You tried to
overstep the world, but stubbed your toe against life’s edge,
pushing harder than you were ever meant to move. And still,
no matter how many nightmares rip through your sleep, the
bed stays soft. And indifferent.
You wrapped all your dreams in an old cloth, thinking maybe
passion—true passion—could burn hotter than any of them. Your
love is precious, nearly pure. But the purest intent rarely carries
you far. It only cuts deeper. And the purest scars are always the
ones left by trying to love right— and too hard.
The days vanish too quickly beneath passion’s flame. The lame
try to stand tall. The insomniac finds the courage to dream again.
And I— I wear my faith like a badge, only to have it thrown back
in my face.
Still, we do what we must. We put on that brave face. We face
the morning. We press on. Because that’s what love leaves behind—
something unfinished, something heavy, something we wear like
the skin on our face.
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 4:04 PM UTC
It all starts with a thought that follows a pop
So vivid and appealing like a curious onslaught
Then the person starts grooving out of the block
Views change, make shift, foundations are formed
Weak flame, pledged words, a moth to a bulb
Big talks, fake blogs, witfully involved
Visually lost, embraced the chaos, but that’s not enough
Growth-fully stunned, what’s wish to a cause, gracefully lost
Blinded by love, falling down a slump, to fulfill the duty to the loved ones
Amidst the carnage, the survivor can’t protest
Ravages of wars again and again, without a break
Leaves the person with nothing intact, no sense of sobriety
No realizations, No hope, just pitch black dent
And nothing’s new just plain ol’ Lament
While everything seems to make them upset
Moderating the pain to soothe the backlash
Fell in depravity, now can’t even sleep for a sec
No notion or moderation yet they try to fulfill their conquest
Their whole world is falling apart yet they can’t seem to stop themselves
For all they know is to work and work and work, so inhumane-like self
A glimpse of countless fallen souls, heroes bound for hell,
Enduring storms so cruel, even therapy lost its spell.
What you talk to isn’t even a human anymore but a charred combusted shell
Whose silence screamed for help
For years they endured so much, a salute to their resilient self
Wish someone would have noticed their stutter
Some kind words, a simple compliment, a flutter
Maybe a graceful guide, bucket-full of hopes and a house of surprise for shelter
Maybe a good friend, and a great teacher, for them to not pretend either
To mend the vice of the bitter, cries of the Aether, heart that is cluttered
Before it falls back to the nether
Their cries went in vain yet the voices still refrain
Afraid of losses and faces scorned with disdain
Forcefully smiling throughout the pain
Imminently violent and without restraint
Engulfed in the darkness for the darkness smothers their brain
Vengeful and perplexed without a rest
Their hatred is genuine, perfectly jest
For the cries that went unseen and the angst of mesh
A turmoiled life, A fractured mess
Hope is but a blundered sail
Plethora of monologues, a crumbling rail
Exhausted sighs, eerie gales
A Note Not Worth The Bother
A Ghastly tale
-Asher Graves
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 3:49 PM UTC
I’m hiding,
Yes, I’m hiding,
Been locked in here for twenty, maybe more,
Trying to fix the mess that I carry to the core.
Everyone’s in the living room,
Laughing, dancing to some happy tune.
But me?
I’m stuck in this silent space,
A crowded house, but I’m lost in my own place.
I’m trapped in this maze, my mind’s own maze,
A prisoner of these long, lonely days.
Silent screams that no one hears,
Louder than the laughter just beyond here.
I’m here, but I’m gone, present but erased,
A crowded house, but I’ve lost my place.
They’ve shown me love, or so they claim,
But behind my back, I hear my name.
Whispers slither like snakes through the cracks,
I know they act, just keeping me intact.
They smile wide, but their eyes are dry,
Maybe they care, or they don’t—but it’s all a lie.
Knock Knock
“Hey, you alright?”
“Erm, I’ll be out soon, give me a sec, it’s alright…”
But is it really?
‘Cause I’m tired, truly tired,
Of fighting fires and battling demons dancing in my head,
Of faking smiles when I feel dead.
Every relationship falls like the one before,
Each one shattered my heart like glass.
I’ve given all, there’s nothing left to give,
Now, I just exist, but don’t know how to live.
They think I’m fine, that I’m still the same,
The happy boy, the bright-eyed flame.
The one who danced, who laughed, who shone,
Who carried the weight of the world like it was his own.
But the truth is, now, I’m shattered, split, and splintered,
Like a mirror that has been dropped,
And every time I pick it up, the pieces never lock.
Once a sunbeam, now just smoke,
A fading laugh, a forgotten joke.
See, I used to be the boy who bubbled with joy,
Now I’m the man that misery employs.
I’m the punchline to jokes never told,
I’m the shadow that hides in the bold.
I used to shine, used to soar,
Now I’m just trying to survive the war.
Bright smiles buried beneath the grime,
The clock keeps ticking, but I’m out of time.
They’re waiting for me to come cut the cake,
But how can I slice when it’s all just fake?
I’m hiding in here, plotting an escape,
Maybe I’ll slip through that window, leave no trace,
Run to a place I’ve never known,
But even there, this weight’s my own.
What do I want? I don’t even know,
Love? Maybe? But trust? It won’t grow.
It’s like carrying mountains on my back,
All this baggage from scars.
Knock Knock
“You coming out?”
Yeah… I guess I’ll go out.
Put on the smiley mask.
Open the door,
And I shout—
“Heeeyyyy! Let’s turn it up, let’s shout!”
They cheer, they dance, think I’m alright,
But in this mask, I’m not here.
Oct 22, 2024
Oct 22, 2024 at 10:16 PM UTC
I felt like a doll,
emotionless and all.
I was able to move and talk and think but,
I'm not there, not really.
I looked out of the window and watched the people on the streets.
Some looking happy and excited,
whereas some looked bleak.
I felt like a layer of glass was
seperating me from the world.
It was hard to explain but what I wanted to do was for someone to help me.
They'd ask me if I was okay and I would look at them and say, "No. Not really."
But I know they'd flinch away from the fact and silently roll their eyes,
That I was another lying person,
Who would fake a smile but have problems for miles.
This time, however, it's a little different.
For I'm the person who helped others who fell,
When I'm the one who needed saving most of all.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC