Activity
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The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoMurphy's Law
Kristopher HaeberlinThe fear begins as a whisper—soft, almost kind.
A flicker in the shadows of thought,
a ghost of what could go wrong.
But you look. You listen. You feed it.
And fear, once invited, grows fangs.
You cradle catastrophe in your mind
until it sleeps beside your dreams
and wakes before your coffee.The more you dread,
the more it becomes a self-fulfilling spell,
cast by trembling hands
and minds too haunted to see
that the thing we run from
is often drawn closer
by the thundering echo of our retreat.You feared they’d leave—
so your anxious questions pushed them to the door.
You feared the fall—
and in bracing, you slipped.
You feared silence—
and your panic spoke loud enough to echo.The universe listens not with judgment,
but with obedience.
And it moves
in the direction of your gaze.Fear is a script you recite so often
that life begins to follow its stage directions.
It becomes the blueprint of breakdowns.
And once you expect disaster,
you live rehearsing it—
repeating lines that summon storms,
as if rain was your destiny.But it’s not.
You are not cursed.
You are not doomed.
You are simply powerful—
and that power bends to belief.
So shift it.
Breathe life into faith, not fear.
Envision calm, not collapse.
See love arriving, not leaving.
See doors opening instead of locking.Because when you choose to feed hope
with the same hunger you once gave anxiety,
the world responds.
The winds turn.
And suddenly, the monsters
become mist.
The worst-case no longer rules your mind.
And the life you feared
stops knocking
because you finally stopped answering.Fear only wins
when you crown it king. -
The Nameless Verse shared a letter in the
Poetry group 2 months, 4 weeks agoThe Weight of Light
Kristopher HaeberlinThey told me I was born of stardust—
a soft echo spun from cosmic ash,
but no one warned me that even stardust
can be stepped on, swept up,
or forgotten beneath someone’s shoes.I’ve been trying to shine in places
that worship shadows.
Kissed wounds into people who only
brought me their swords.
Let my chest be an altar for the broken,
but no one stayed long enough to pray.
Still, I gave—
my time, my truth, my trembling hands—
as if love were currency
and I could pay off loneliness
with interest.But I am not debt.
I am not what they abandoned.
I am the sunrise stubborn enough
to come back every morning,
even when the world sleeps through my arrival.
I am the quiet resilience of oceans
pulling tides into rhythm
with a moon that never speaks.I’ve learned the universe doesn’t apologize
for burning stars into oblivion—
it just makes room for new constellations.
And maybe I’m not meant to be
understood by everyone.
Maybe I’m here
to remind the forgotten
that they were never invisible.So if you are reading this—
gripping your soul in clenched fists,
carrying the kind of grief
that leaks when no one’s watching—
know this:You are not the wound.
You are the healing.
You are not lost.
You are the map someone else needs.
You are not too much.
You are the weight of light—
and that’s why they couldn’t hold you. -
Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 3 months agoPlanted Roots
Martha MooreDeep inside
You’ve planted roots
I can feel you taking over
I am a subject in your kingdom
You are the king and queen of my whole being
Darkness that no light can penetrate
My ruler, my Lord, my curse
You grow bigger and stronger everyday
I simply wither away
Hoping to stand clear of drowning
There is no place in my mind to feel safe
To be safe
I am a haunted house
Controlled by you
Never ending reels in my house of horror
Never forget
I’m trapped in my past
I can’t find my way back home -
Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoA Welcome To Spring
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers:
At the time of writing, there’s less than ten minutes before the vernal equinox. Winter comes to a close.
The first grass grows, the days get longer.
It’s the time of year where come back inside from lunch will be difficult.
I feel a sense of possibility in the air.
With that, a welcome to the new season:
When the first grass grows
It’s the surest sign of time
Rising up from the groundThe seasons are changing
With winter’s icy grip retreating
Spring has finally arrivedA time where everything’s in bloom
Trees, grass and flowers tooUnder equal hours of day and night
The world comes alive againThe new season will unfold in ninety two days
Possibility is in the airAs the next part of the year begins
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Aww Oswald, I love how your poems set the tone for the time of year. It really allows me and reminds me to take a moment to be present. Your poems always put me in the moment, which is so important in life. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. I am going to feature your piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoJudgment Day
Martha MooreThe crowd gathered round as you rode in on your high horse. We watched as you took your seat on the highest pedestal. As you looked down on those of us on the ground, you decided we were simple fools and peasants. Nothing of your stature. You straightened up and sat tall announcing that the time had come for you to pass judgement. We bowed our heads shamefully, for you told us we aren’t worth a name. Because we are all human garbage, we can be classed as a stereotype. You won’t allow our eyes to meet your gaze, we are too unworthy to be socially accepted by you. “Wasted space,” is what you say, “the world has no place for your kind.” You tell us we are simple minded, useless, and no good. We should never be allowed to associate with your graces. We have not earned the right to stand where you have stood. You mock us and laugh in our faces. We are merely entertainment for someone like you. You have ruled that we are not fit to be among the class of high society and pound your gavel to finalize the sentencing. We watch as you sit back, pleased with yourself and all your wondrous accomplishments. But as we stand together here on the ground, we dance and laugh and live freely. We are proud not to have to sit on a throne or bare the crown of perfection. We embrace our simple lives full of love and joy. For we know: we may have a long, treacherous journey to the top but we have no other way to look but up. As for you, sat way up high, there is nowhere left to go. Only down. Even the greatest kings and queens could never defeat gravity.
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Lillith Campos shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 3 months agoFor Emily
Lillith Raine CamposThis was written November 26th, 2020. I had been struggling with the death of a friend; it happened to hit a little too close to home for me. I had a sense of survivor’s guilt. I felt that it should have been, could very easily have been me. It wreaked havoc on my mental state for months, thus my therapist suggested writing this in her memory. I remember it as if it happened yesterday, my therapist being so compassionate but also cautioning me, bracing me, making sure I understood that being a part of this community, Emily will not be the only person I lose to suicide or even murder. We as trans people do not have a long-life expectancy.
So, we need a little back story. I met Emily in December in a support group on Facebook for depression, anxiety and suicide. She is a transgender woman like myself. She is 25 years old and would have been 26 this month. Her and another transwoman we met in that group bonded rather quickly over not just our suicidal ideations, self-harm and depression, but also from all 3 of us sharing the trials and tribulations of being transgender in this shit hole of a country.
Her family disowned her for being trans, and very rarely used the correct pronouns. She was kicked out of her home yet was able to find an apartment where she lived in Atlanta. She hated being trans. She was happier on hormones of course but still hated the fact she was not a cis woman. She was in enormous debt from so many medical Bill’s due to numerous suicide attempts and being hospitalized in psych wards. In the 4 months we knew each other she probably spent 5 or 6 weeks in a psych ward. She was of the mind she would fake it until she made it, meaning whatever she had to do to get off suicide watch. She swore once her medical bills were paid off, she would end it. She planned to wait because she did not want to stick the family that disowned her with the medical bills.
She was always thinking about others and loved to please people. We all became very close in such a short amount of time. When she was in the psych hospital, we would call daily to check on her. She attempted three times in the time I knew her, once with a noose but the rope broke. Twice with pills, the last one resulting in seizures and a hospital stay before another psych stay.
We had an agreement between the three of us. We knew how depressed we were. We knew we all longed for death, and we hated how people were trying to keep us alive when all we wanted was to die. How could people be so selfish? So, we gave each other permission to die. We would not try to talk each other out of it because we understood each other. We agreed that what we would do was to at least say goodbye to the others in the group. Give the others a chance to say goodbye and that we love each other one last time. That did not happen. Emily left us and we did not get to say goodbye to her.
I really want to be mad at her for that, but I understand her pain. I understand her fear that we would try and talk her out of it. I am so very sad that I lost her, but I am comforted in the knowledge that she Isn’t suffering anymore. Emily confided in me outside of our group chat a couple of times that one thing that was keeping her going was she did not want others to be sad about her loss. And that she feared Rose (the other one in our group) would kill herself if in fact either one of us did kill ourselves. Rose mentioned as much that she would do that.
We must do better as humans. Misgendering takes such a toll on us. The things we go through daily wears us down every day, and it seems like this entire country is on a witch hunt with us being the witches (I’m pagan but people just say witches). We are slowly being killed off by mental illness due to the struggles of being transgender. And those struggles, those mental illnesses are caused from outside influences 99 percent of the time.
We need to talk about this more openly. So many suffer from depression and suicidal ideation. We must remove the stigma from this topic. People have to stop being afraid to talk about it. RIP Emily Nicole Brown. I will miss you.
Here Is the link to her blog. You will get a better mindset of her thinking. http://www.emilythetransgirl.wordpress.com
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoBeannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!
Dear Unsealers:
It’s the seventeenth day of March.
So the adage goes, we’re all a little bit Irish today. With that in mind, I hope that everyone has a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day with all the luck.
As I’ve done since 2021, I’ve written my own Irish blessing, and it goes like this…
On this, the 17th day of March
A blessing from me to youMay the sun shine upon you
Blue skies above, green grass belowRainbows to appear when you’re near
A life lived joyfully, without many tearsFor your troubles to be less
The craic always kept in good cheerAll the shamrocks bringing luck
With the warmth of Eire’s heart, soulThere’s one more thing to say
To everyone on the Emerald Isle…Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh-
Oswald, I’ve always loved the fun and celebratory spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. After all, who doesn’t want to feel a little luckier than usual? I love how your poem captures the positive and uplifting nature of the holiday and also pays homage to the Irish. Thank you for sharing!
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Heather shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoMood: Nostalgic
HeatherCan we go back to playing barbies on the bedroom floor?
Playing baby dolls on rainy days?
Or to those Saturday mornings of cartoons & a big bowl of Fruit Loops cereal?
Can we go back to those summer days of frozen Capri Suns, popsicles, & all day swim sessions?
Or to those skid knees from falling off bikes.
Falling down from rollerblading.
Can we go back to late night sleepovers at grandma’s house?
Or those next morning wake up calls of fresh pancakes consuming grandma’s house.
Can we go back to playing videos games all night?
Playing the game tag all day outside?
Can we go back to a time when it wasn’t rushing us to grow old?
When time was less of our worries.
Or to those summer days of riding bikes in dust storms feeling powerful?
Can we go back to a time when feeling free was all we knew?-
Heather, this takes me back to my childhood. My younger sister and I spent long summer days outside feeling as if they would never end. When we are children, we usually don’t realize the beauty of a life without adult responsibility. I’d love to go back too! Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
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Heather, I so feel all of this, and these thoughts enter my head every now and then. Childhood was so magical and I never knew life would be so different when I grew up. Maybe it doesn’t have to be? Thank you for sharing. I am going to feature this piece in our newsletter today. <3 Lauren
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Thank you for this! & thank you for sharing in the newsletter. Means so much to not just me but to my internal human who finds such zen in writing. She FINALLY feels heard. Her words are FINALLY being seen in a community that she’s searched for so long. Thank you!!
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Martha Moore shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months agoOn My Mind... Again
Martha C MooreI sit down to write
You’re on my mind again
But this is nothing new
By now I’m used to itSometimes it’s all consuming
Other times, fleeting thoughts
Either way it hits me
I’m left feeling lostI ache to my core for you
Miss every moment we never shared
I need you to know I love you
And that I’ll always careI’ll never forget you
My soul knows something is missing
My brain tries to rationalize it
But my heart is never listening-
Martha, missing someone who is no longer a part of our life leaves us feeling bereft and unmoored. No matter how irrational we know our feelings may be, it doesn’t stop them from consuming us. Whether we choose to listen to our hearts or our minds, these feelings do not often dissipate as quickly as we’d like. Thank you for sharing this moving poem!
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Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much.
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Martha, This is so beautiful and so relatable. I totally know what it’s like to miss someone you love and feel it in the vibration of your heart. I am going to feature this poem in our newsletter today. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed. Sending hugs. <3 Lauren
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Thank you for the support and encouragement. It is truly and deeply appreciated.
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Vicki Lawana Trusselli shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 3 months, 1 weeks agoPSYCHOLOGY OF PROJECTION
Vicki Lawana TrusselliDear Unsealed,
PSYCHOLOGY OF PROJECTION
The theory of the psychology of projection is a phenomenal viral situation in 2024.
There are people who project their ill feelings, anger, insecurities onto the closest empath standing in their way.
You spewed obscenities at me that day
As you do everyday
you blame me for your failed attitude
that is not subdued
I ask you why
Why do you project your insecurities onto me
You reply
It’s all your fault
It’s my fault you say
No, you just caught
In another lie
I sigh
Why?
You yell at me
You are nothing to me
So, let it be
I cry
I say
No
I could be your fake friend
Until the end
So, then you yell
To me
Not let it be
But cruel words of anger
That makes you a danger
To my world
To your world
To all worlds
As you carry on
With your blaming me
For your misdeeds
Of unconscious reprimanding me
Or any other empath
The victim of your wrath
You are jealous and angry
You sit around spewing obscenities
Of hate and bigotry of amenities
And talents of other people on Earth
So, tell me,
For what it’s worth
How do you wake up everyday
To your vile words of insanity
Of what may be your reality
To trash the Earth
With your dark soul
Of cruel intentions of old
As your soul was sold
To the vile fiery hell of hades
Of your life of death,
Here what I say.
Your dark empty vessel of skin
Can not win
You are the demon of Earth
For what it’s worth
You are not anything
You are a blank empty soul
Of nothing
But your lies
Your ego
You cry, you scream
At me
Let it be
You are the epitome of humanity
Garbage dump
Dump Dump-
Vicki, I’ve never given much thought to the psychology of projection, but I can see how feelings projected onto an empathetic person would be detrimental to his or her well-being. When people with darkness inside them feel the need to bring down those who would do them no harm, it really shows their true nature. I hope that, as an empath, you can…read more
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I am working on that with my therapist
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Liz shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks agoThis post is viewable by the Unsealed community only.
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Heather shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 3 months, 1 weeks agoDear Anxiety
HeatherHold my hand. Gently grab these fingers and walk with me.
I have something to share with you.
Let’s go for a walk.I know it’s in your nature to save me. To protect me.
I’m here to let you know, it’s okay.
I understand your job, but right now, your job is on hold.
I’ve got this now.
It’s time for you to take a break.I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with it, but I’m okay.
I’m safe now. I’ve found the middle ground.
You don’t need to cover me with your comfort shield.
I’ve got this. I promise.You can go lay down and rest.
Shut your eyes.
Silence the noise.
Relax.Sincerely,
Me-
Heather, I also suffer from anxiety and I can relate to what you wrote so much. Though our anxiety serves a purpose- to keep us safe and prepared- it also prevents us from finding joy in the uncertainties of life. Like you, I hope to find a middle ground that allows me to relax and enjoy my life while still being cognizant of what goes on around…read more
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks agoInternational Women's Day 2025
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers,
It’s the eighth day of March.
A Happy International Women’s Day to all the women of the world. From my mom, my sister, all of my female friends and relatives. And to all the women in The Unsealed.
In honor of your strength, kindness and tenacity, comes this poem…
On International Women’s Day 2025
A salute to all the women
Family, relatives, friends and acquaintances
In every corner of the worldMay they keep making this world a better place
Bringing their light, tenacity and strength
Into these trying days and nightsMay we learn from their compassion
Their willingness to stick up for what’s rightI wouldn’t be the person I am
Kind, compassionate and fierce
If not for my mom and sister
The two most important women in my lifeHere’s to the women of the world
Celebrated on this 8th day of MarchAnd every single day of the year!
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Oswald, this poem is such a sweet tribute to the women you’ve encountered. It is obvious, based on your kindness and compassion, that some top tier ladies have influenced you! As a woman, your words mean a lot to me even though I do not know you personally. Thank you for supporting and uplifting the women in your life and for sharing your lovely poetry!
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 1 weeks ago2 Fingers Up
Michael L George jrSelf reflecting with two
fingers up. Projecting peace,
A double entendre.
Happy, with a joyful smile
Showing my teeth.
With the acception of
A Farwell to the past versions of me.-
Michael, this poem makes me think that you are feeling confident and excited about life. I love that you are “projecting peace” with your two fingers up and smiling with your teeth. I hope that you are able to continue living your truth! Thank you for sharing.
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Oswald Perez shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 2 weeks agoMarch On!
Oswald PerezDear Unsealers,
It’s the first day of March.January took a century to go by. February passed through quickly.
March is a month of transition.As the clocks will turn ahead an hour in a week. More daylight on the commute home from work.
The countdown to Easter begins. The Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday.A month that honors women, and brings cerebral palsy to the forefront. And a moment marking five years since the world as we knew it was upended.
March is a month when the seasons begin to change. It begins in the last days of winter and comes to a close at the start of spring.
All in thirty-one days.
As with every month, a welcome in verse:
March
Month number three, in 2025The month comes in like a lion
As winter’s chill and hints of spring trade daysThirty-one days lie ahead.
A season of transitionFrom clocks moving ahead
Equal hours of night and dayA month of solemnity
The countdown to Easter begins.It’s also Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month.
And five years since the AwakeningThe month goes out like a lamb
As the first blooms arrive-
Oswald, I love how you always usher in a new month with hopeful anticipation! March feels like a month of transition to me as well. As winter fades away and spring begins to show its colors, we feel a sense of possibility….unless we are talking about five years ago when March stood for something completely different. Thank you for sharing this piece!
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michae1 shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks agoEmotional Creatures
Michael L George jrSome of us worry about
“Certain features”,
We go through “desperate measures”.
To provide some type of pleasure.
We’re Constantly under pressure,
Fighting with gravity.
We are searching and looking
Browsing at eye candy,
Looks are appealing, but
To get a taste.
You might Unwrap other
Feelings!
Revealing the mind is
So divine,
Sometimes it’s quiet and unspoken,
Then sometimes it’s loud!
When it’s provoken,
Soo, maybe….it’s better to
Leave it unopened.
The power of emotions, blows up!
Some atomic fluids flowing. Now,
We’re chemically influenced.-
Michael, I love how you explain the complexity of emotions we encounter as humans each day. Our emotions have the power to influence us in a variety of ways and in many cases, we are unable to control them. It is so interesting that we have such little power against something that is so prevalent in our lives. Thank you for sharing this poem!
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 3 months, 3 weeks agoA Letter of Healing, Strength, and Spiritual Alignment
Anita A WilliamsLife has a way of forcing you into stillness. When everything around you crumbles, when the weight of the world feels unbearable, when you’ve given all of yourself and still feel empty—you are left with two choices: break, or rebuild.
I won’t lie. There were moments I felt like breaking.
I have battled PTSD, bipolar disorder, mood swings, and depression. Some days, I could barely pull myself out of bed. Some days, I felt like I was drowning in emotions I didn’t have the strength to explain. And yet, the world kept moving. Responsibilities didn’t stop, expectations didn’t pause, and people still pulled from me, unaware that I was running on nothing.
Last year tested me in ways I never imagined. I ended a relationship I deeply wanted. One I poured my soul into. And it broke me. Not just the loss, but the realization that I had given so much of myself, yet I was never truly seen, never truly valued. I walked away with nothing but exhaustion, drained of my love, my energy, and my spirit. And then, life didn’t give me time to heal. The weight of being out of work, the unexpected surgery, the long recovery, the piling responsibilities—it all came at once. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could push through, but when my body failed me, when I could no longer do the things I once did effortlessly, I had no choice but to sit in it. To feel everything I had been running from.
Preparing for my son’s graduation should have been a moment of excitement, a moment of celebration, but instead, I found myself withdrawing. I just wanted to be alone. I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t want to be around people. That’s when I knew—I had to go back to therapy. I had to see my psychiatrist, get back on my medication, and take control of my mental health again. Because no matter how much I prayed, I had to also take action. Healing isn’t just spiritual—it’s mental, emotional, and physical.
And then this year, the surgery happened. I thought it would be simple. Something I could bounce back from quickly. But this surgery was nothing like I expected. It forced me into yet another level of surrender, another layer of patience, another reminder that healing has no shortcuts. I cry a lot. I get emotional, and sometimes it feels like the world is changing too fast, yet somehow, it also feels like we’re moving backward. There’s so much hate, so much anger, so much division. And as I get older, I realize that time moves whether we are ready or not. I used to picture myself in a different place by now. I thought I’d be married, settled, moving in a rhythm that felt secure. Instead, I find myself constantly adjusting, constantly learning, constantly relearning how to exist in this world.
And January—it never gets easier. In 2020, I lost my father. In December 2021, I lost my child. That kind of pain never truly leaves. It lingers. It shifts. Some days, it’s a whisper. Some days, it’s a storm. I wanted that baby so bad. So bad. And sometimes, that grief still knocks the air out of me. No matter how much time passes, I still feel the loss. I still cry. And I still ask God why. But through it all, my faith remains my anchor.
I am deeply spiritual. I trust in the Most High. I believe in the power of prayer, in the power of divine alignment. Not a day goes by that I don’t pray. I pray through my pain, through my uncertainty, through my grief. I light my candles. I speak to my ancestors. I trust that even in my hardest moments, I am never truly alone. And my advice to anyone experiencing something similar—love yourself first, pour into you, work on your healing, seek therapy, sit with your emotions, stop running. Search spiritually for God, pray, meditate, trust in divine timing. Don’t let your situation break your spirit. You are stronger than you feel in this moment. Always take a break for your mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health. You cannot pour from an empty cup. Love will always come. You won’t have to chase it. You won’t have to question it. When it’s meant for you, it will align effortlessly. And above all, life is short—so enjoy it. Live. Love. Heal. Breathe. Be present.
I am still learning, still healing, still growing. But what I know for sure is this: I will not break. I will rise. I will love again. But this time, from a place of wholeness. And when the time is right, when my spirit is aligned, when my heart is open and whole—love will find me. Not through force. Not through desperation. But through divine alignment.
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Anita, you are such an inspiration. Your story is raw and real and I love that you don’t try to sugarcoat what you’ve experienced. Based on what you’ve written, you certainly have had more than enough reason to break. The fact that you are choosing to rebuild instead says so much about your strength and courage. Thank you for sharing your…read more
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Anita Williams shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks ago"Becoming Whole"
Anita A WilliamsLately, I’ve been searching deep,
through silent nights and wounds that weep.
Reflecting on the path I’ve known,
the love I gave, yet stood alone.This season of stillness, a destined pause,
life unfolding by divine laws.
Losing, healing, standing still,
learning that time bends to God’s will.I’ve poured my soul into the hands of others,
lifted friends, lovers, sisters, brothers.
But now, I turn that love within,
where healing starts, where I begin.No longer chasing, forcing, pleading,
just trusting life, trusting its meaning.
For what is mine will never stray,
it will find me in its own way.Yes, I want love, but love is not a cure,
not a place where wounds endure.
No one should fix what they didn’t break,
love should build, not bend till it aches.I seek a bond where spirits grow,
not a place where burdens show.
A hand to hold, not one to mend,
a partner first, a lover, a friend.So I stand in truth, in light, in grace,
embracing healing, finding my space.
Celibate, patient, guarding my soul,
waiting for love that makes me whole.No more weight upon my chest,
no more giving till there’s nothing left.
Love is balance, love is free,
love will meet me when it’s meant to be.And when it does, I will not chase,
I will not question time or place.
For love aligned, by fate, by call,
needs no force—it simply falls.-
Anita, this kind of love is what everyone deserves in their lives. I’m so glad that you’ve realized you are worth so much more than the one-sided love you’ve given others in the past. You are right that love that is meant to be “simply falls” into place without the need for force. I hope that you find it soon! Thank you for sharing this piece.
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Paige Walden shared a letter in the
Mental Health group 3 months, 3 weeks agoAngel on Fire
Paige WaldenIn the river of time, we drift and glide on life’s current, side by side.
We flow together, bound by routines and survival’s embrace, with some finding solace in their pace and others who bear burdens, heavy and wide.
Yet despite our different paths, the goal for all remains unchanged, to stay afloat and abide.We journey on this temporal stream, experiencing moments both shared and a dream.
For me, floating adrift for nearly three decades, it was in my recent path that I set myself ablaze,
consumed by flames of renewal, a heart reborn. In time’s river, I’ll continue to soar.In the scorch, I let myself burn, shedding the old, bitter me that yearned to extinguish God’s goodness within.
Anger and resentment threatened to consume,
plunging me into dark, endless gloom.
Yet, like a phoenix, I rose anew, enlightened, with self-awareness shining through.
From the ashes, l emerged, reborn and free,
snuffing out the flames that once consumed me.As I rise, the future’s dawn, In 2025, a new path drawn.
No longer bound by insecure ties, the past’s weight, I bid goodbye.
Goodbye to burdens heavy shadows, threatening to cave in on me,
goodbye to the whispers of names and flawed reflections;
I’ll let the flames of courage soar, And watch the past, forevermore.With gasoline, I’ll set it free,
from chain of doubt I’ll break with glee.
A resolution blazes, fierce and true,
In the horizon’s arms, I’ll soar anew.
From the ashes, I rise, wings spread wide,
embracing the sky, my spirit twirled.
Let it all burn, in the night’s embrace,
I’ll find my freedom, in this vast space.-
Paige, I absolutely love this poem! I love the idea of “burning” your past self so that you can find yourself in the present. By cutting the cords that bind us, we can embrace who we really are. I hope that you are able to find the freedom that you desire. Thank you for sharing this inspiring poem!
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This one personally is my favorite piece I ever wrote. Thank you so much for your words! I’m really glad I can share this and have it resonate with you and hopefully more! ❤️
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Blue Sky shared a letter in the
Poetry group 3 months, 3 weeks ago404 Not Found
404 not found
My long search came up empty
Looking for the oneAfter the divorce
Never thought I’d try to look
Then I hit refreshFound a rabbit hole
I decided to jump in
To see what I’d findEww, what a cesspool
What does it say about me
That I am in it?And then in the end
Disorganized attachment
Bit me in the assThen, I decided
I’d try therapy instead
To get over her404 not found
Entered the wrong URL
BetterHelp.comNot Bumble.com
Would have been more suitable
For my broken heart-
I love this poem. I feel like many of us feel like the best response to heartbreak is to move on to someone else. Sometimes, it can even make things easier. Other times, it just highlights how broken we really are. It is better to work through your feelings in healthier ways. Thank you for sharing your experience!
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