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ProfMoonCake Jun 6
I don’t know who I am without Woe.
She’s been my other half—
The sincere and attentive arm.
Her body feels familiar to lay with:
The curves of her back,
The curly black hair—
They feel like home now.

It’s hard now to smile.
When I do—it’s scary.
I prepare for the earth to swallow me whole.
She flows through me,
Delicate, quiet, and lethal.
The sunflowers look the other way,
And mountains become stones.

I don’t know who I am without Woe.

My parents didn’t raise me like this.
The boy who kissed me didn’t know.
I’m married to her now—
She is my one true love.

My baby, I am scared to watch you try
And fail.
Maybe I will **** her tonight,
Or poison her each time you talk to me.
She’ll die a little with your songs.
She’ll die a little with my walks.
She has to die either way.
I wear my past like a cape
Superman’s got nothing on me
now that I’m free

All I’ve overcome
widens my stance
straightens my shoulders
I didn’t die
so I raise my chin up high

Shame, regrets, fear
in bullet-shape
bounce right off
my bullet-proof drape

Finally, I truly mean it
when I say, ‘I’m fine’
for I wear it like a cape,
this past of mine

© 2025 SincerelyJoanWrites. All rights reserved.
Can anyone relate to this poem?
Never let someone who hasn't been in your shoes tell you how to tie your laces.
Laces are complicated, and they take time to figure out.
If you can't tie your laces, you'll figure it out eventually.
It's okay if you need help tying your laces, we all start somewhere.

Are your laces *****? We can clean them.
Too thin? It'll work out somehow.
Thick? We'll find a way.
If you have velcro instead, that's okay too.

You can't tie your laces in a normal way? We can find another one, even if it's more complex.
If you don't tie your laces, you'll fall in them.
If you do, you can keep walking, maybe even run,
and eventually forget you had laces in the first place.

In the end, you'll realise that,
your laces, messy or neat,
have always been yours,
and that's enough.
So I'm actually quite proud of this one, this poem talks about trauma recovery, it's not an easy journey, but at the end of the day, it's your journey. And you can choose where to "walk."
In a dusty magic orchard, my soul lost its worth.
Where a garden of poison fruit called from the Earth.
There, a tree stood, it was beautiful and dark.
But when the glare from the moon revealed me to its bark,

Its branches took hold. I knew I was ensnared.
Ripped out my intentions, as dust filled the air.
Its trunk overtook me, no matter my strain.
I was trapped in a euphoria, divine and insane…

Beyond the veil of roses, we know of the thorns.
That omnipresent sting of need, that slowly adorns.
All beauty seen, only masked an ugly face.
In a statuette state, watched my world shift its shape.

Each petal a facade, each leaf was a lie.
This enchanted tree, has now silenced my cry.
My soul, now ensnared to its beautiful spell,
My search in desperation, formed a path straight to hell.

Deep In this garden, I remain without vision.
Controlled at its will, my roots bound in addiction.
Only one tale unfolds for my soul. I’m too deep,
As my cries become screams, I’m as silent as sleep

Adore not this garden. oh sad, starving heart.
For this magical garden will tear you apart.
Never eat from her harvest. Never mask your own dread.
Run far from this soil feeding my life to the dead.
AishiDhiman Jun 1
A cry in the night
Thin yet sharp
Unheard, yet never unspoken.

Why? Why did they turn away?
Why did my voice fall like a leaf
Trembling and twisting  
yet never caught?
I reached out i swear i did
But not far, not loud
But enough
enough for someone to notice.
Or so I thought.

Was I too small, too plain, too quiet
To be worth the reach of a hand?
Was I too ordinary to be saved?
Too forgettable to be found?

I cried, but no one listened.
I begged, but no one answered.
My voice cracked and broke
And still nothing.

Tell me was I not enough for you ?
Not special enough  to matter to you?

I tried to stand tall,
But my legs shook beneath me.
I tried to be strong,
But my ribs felt too small to hold any breath i took
I swallowed the screams again and again
Until they rotted inside me
Turning my chest tight and until i felt it on my body
Turning my mind into a maze I couldn’t escape , maybe i never will.

I waited.
For a knock at the door,
For a voice to call my name,
For someone or anyone to come see me,
To see the shadows swallowing me whole

But no one came.

So
I learned to smile enough
To keep all the questions away.
I laughed loud enough
To bury the sound of my shattering heart
I wore my strength like armor
Heavy and suffocating
But convincing enough to fool them all.

And still... I waited.
Waited for someone to notice
That under the brave face
Was a soul in great pain

Tell me , was really so easy to forget?
So simple to not care
Did no one see the way I flinched every time
Did no one notice the way I held my breath whenever there footsteps neared my bed

I used to dream that someone would save me that someone would see through the silence
And wrap me in arms that felt safe.
I used to believe that love
real love l
Would find me before I disappeared completely.

But now that I wonder.
Maybe some people aren’t meant to be saved
People like me
Maybe some cries are meant to die out in the night
Forgotten and unheard

And maybe that cry in the night
just maybe.
It was never meant to matter at all.
Thoughts at 1.30 a.m
Cadmus May 30
🎭

I
miss
the
time
when
my
smiles
were
real.

👺
This piece reflects the quiet resilience that grows in the shadow of sadness. It’s a reminder that even the faintest hope has the power to restore the sincerity of a smile.
****** Leaves My System

Others — white and dark —
Order their coffee in environmental mugs.
You don’t get stars,
Only reused syringes.

****** leaves as joy —
A nub with no shadow.
Trauma’s shadow is bright white
In my pipe.

Who says addicts are unclean?
I scrape my pipe and cooker,
Shockingly clean.
I don’t get anything.
UC tomorrow —
Do you sleep sound?

The rush — excitement.
Why wrap so tight?
Don’t break the crack in the pipe.
Sounds like joy.
Smoke fills my lungs.
Yet I get nothing.
In burning light,
Where was my life?
Vapor fills the room.
Oh, there’s a feeling —
I’m content.
How about you?

Could you ***** yourself a hundred times
Just to feel a little?

Stop — there’s blood in the needle.
You think an ****** is good?
You’ve never seen blood mixed with life in a needle.
Trust me — don’t try.
You miss all the shots you don’t take.
Ones you don’t take can’t **** you.

I wish they would —
The ones that hit hurt more than the ones that miss.
Well, ask him:
******, needle, arm —
The true holy trinity.

Just ask Jesus —
Blood of Christ, blood of an addict,
Redeem me.

Needle exchange —
Well, I need a life exchange.
Maybe something sharper.
Sorry, I meant to say spare change.
Andrea May 21
Once again I find myself laying in bed and staring with empty eyes at my room.

In my mind this is not my room, and I am not here.

I view my surroundings as if they are a photo I hold in my hands.

This isn't my life, but a glimpse into someone else's;

I judge them for their mess and chaos.
I admire them for their creativity .

I judge the way they let their partner treat them in this space.
I admire the compassion I see shining through despite that treatment.

I am able to identify both my best-self and my worst-self
While looking down at this snapshot of a strangers room with my bed
Why do you cry?
Because I’m so sick of not being okay.

So sick of my loss of appetite.
My constant need for pain.
Why can’t I be happy?
Wholly and unconditionally. Must there always be a load, weighing me down?
Where’s the balloon?
That I can tie to my wrist and let pull me away?
Why must life be so full of death?
So many questions.
So many answers that continue to allude me.
So I look to the sky.
To the stars.
And….
Dream.
Of a day when someone will ask me.

Why do you cry?
And I can answer,
Because I’m finally okay.
With embered wings, I pierce the blackest night,
A solar mass morphing into a black hole.
Each atom in my blood prepares to ignite,
Reflecting the true divine shape of my soul.

In the corridors of my own thought, the senses drown.
The mind painting prisms bleeding photonic rain.
No boundary here to hold me. In moments, I'm crowned.
In this kingdom of chaos, sculpting solace from pain.

I stand before the mirror of my own trembling soul.
A sovereign spark lives, who dares to hope it can heal.
A voice screams, that " One who has shattered his mold,
Transcends the one; fragments of being, each their own whole."

Pulses turn to diamonds, forming as the words on my tongue.
Minutes stretch — now endless lifetimes yet to be discovered.
I taste each shard of feeling that my heart has overcome.
My sorrow and my joy open, remaining uncovered.

My dreams, my faulted mind, like ones we called under-wrought.
Their eyes, constellations, like the ones we used to trust.
Chemicals react, dispersing waves, like songs we forgot.
Solitude and isolation bleed with each melodic gust.

And in the hush of afterglow, I wield my clean knife,
Open up my wounds till they reveal my true hidden name.
And from this crucible of pain, is born a new life.
My infinite flame burns as both the wild and the tame.

Following voices of shadows, divine potential’s own choir.
Their hymns — the portal to my soul yet to be embraced.
Chains bind me to perceptions, but for now, I'm more like fire.
Forging quantum bound waves, binding purpose to my fate.
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