Long Mentalhealth Poems
Long Mentalhealth Poems. Below are the most popular long Mentalhealth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mentalhealth poems by poem length and keyword.
To play a guitar is one thing I always yearned
On a day like any other I finally decided to learn.
My Son's Guitar is made for a child, small in stature.
I strum the strings, an out of tune melody is what my ears capture.
Last time I tried I quit, knowing the challenge of acquiring a new skill.
So I download an app, now in tune it's ready and that's how I feel.
An acoustic guitar can make wonderful music, in the right hands.
My fingers are clumsy, like a man lost in unfamiliar land.
Starting from the beginning I learn about the instrument.
The strings, frets, how to tune and I'm lost in the moment.
Electric energy flows from me, happy and excited.
I'm playing riffs and melodies, I know my dad would be proud I finally tried it.
I'm close to 40 years old but I feel a youthful joy playing music.
Dad has been gone 25 years, so I learn a song for him that's nostalgic.
So amped I am I send a song to my brother.
"Nothing else matter's" resonates the air, still new and fresh I play a rookie cover.
He gives encouraging words and tells me to keep it up.
So I play on with a thirst for more as I try to fill my musical cup.
Chords, notes and practice have been a test of concentration.
I learn "wonderful tonight" for my honey and I'm filled with elation.
My Son's Guitar has blessed me in a time of hardship and I'm so glad.
I hope one day my Son will play and think of me, like how I thought of my Dad. ????
-Love you Dad and my dear Son
I have 2 secret lovers only a few know about.
Not everyone would understand our love, and that I have no doubt.
The one who keeps me up all night, she’s my biggest fan.
She tells me how good of a mom I am and helps me the best way she can.
The other, she’s a bit more shy, and doesn’t like all the noise.
She makes me feel a little bit calmer and fills me with poise.
Together they are the perfect combo and make me feel like I’m at my best.
I hate the times when I can’t find them which makes me distressed.
The hyper one, she gets me through several days and nights,
The calm one, she settles my nerves and kisses where the other bites.
I don’t remember what life was like before I met these two,
Don’t remember who I was, I’ve become someone I once knew.
I know a day will come when we can no longer be friends,
Until then, they’re my secret lovers and will hold me until the very end.
In the shadows of our nation's promise,
Some stand waiting, papers clutched in hand,
While others cross where fences compromise,
And find a different welcome in this land.
I've seen the tired faces at food banks,
Veterans who fought beneath our flag,
The elderly with medicine too dear,
And families whose futures start to sag.
Not hatred for the stranger seeking hope,
But questions for a system out of tune,
That sometimes seems to overlook its own,
While others find their answers coming soon.
What justice means depends on where you stand—
The view looks different from the bottom rung.
When helping hands seem always out of reach,
It's hard to hear the songs of freedom sung.
A nation built on dreams must dream for all,
Not choose between its children and its guests.
The scales of fairness falter and they tilt
For corruption is the system democracy has built.
Perhaps one day we'll build a better way,
Where no one stands forgotten in the cold,
Where policy embraces every soul.
Until that day, the tensions pull us tight,
Two different truths, both painful and sincere
The struggle of belonging and of need,
Just another myth of the so called American
Dream, putting many to sleep.
Each person fights a demon,
No one is ever spared,
But how strong of a monster is never truly shared.
And sometimes, no matter how hard you fight,
The demon is who wins.
Forty years of ups and downs,
Victories and losses,
each in turn like coin tosses,
Raced around the world and back,
The final battle is alone.
Some demons are so dangerous,
That others back away,
It is not lack of caring, but to protect others from its sway.
They hope and pray from afar,
Always wishing that you’ll win.
You make the final journey now,
Finding peace that you had lost,
Be with your kith and your kin with Hel a gracious host,
Give greetings to her father,
Give greetings to our kin.
Rest in peace finally,
You are beyond this test.
Desire turns to ire,
elation to vexation
Every single thing you do
Increases my frustration
Light shines through the colourful stained glass
It’s a sight to see such fine art
But the only glass I see stained are shards of red that you stabbed into my heart
Keep your head down
For your sins, you can’t repay
You will never be forgiven
On your knees where you shall stay
Staggering breaths
As you begin to falter
Trying to confess
all of your sins at the altar
You are no Angel
Nor are you a saint
One does not receive glory
for bragging of his attaint
Your time has come
for I hear the chime of the bells
Your lack of repent
shall send you to hell
I celebrated my father's birthday this last April 4th, 2025
He would have been 75,
Yet 7 years ago, a white butterfly laid him to rest, with the rest of his family around his casket,
And my face playing masquerade among the living corpses giving me their condolences,
Not of any fault of their own,
Just that, my own brokenness could never be seen,
And between the layers of tears that covered my mother's face,
I knew,
I must be the one to carry this family's weight.
That was my state of mind back when we laid my father to rest,
Amidst the cries of those who grieved, and the white butterfly who rested its wings on the polished crimson wood.
That's what I believed would keep my family functional.
And it worked, for a season, by the grace of God, I felt His hand cocoon me from the demons that laid wait to weaken and ruin me.
And then it left - that beaconing presence that suppressed depressed presences within my soul,
Setting demons free once under control
And lessons once freeing felt stifling under the boulders that now crushed them.
I could no longer carry the weight I once bore,
Yet my stubborn spirit refused to let it go,
As if I insisted on doing 4 sets of 100 when I could only do 2 sets of 50
And I got hurt.
When we laid my father to rest, a white butterfly flew by my mother's face, and rested on his casket.
Yesterday I learned that butterflies rest during rainfall to protect their wings from damage.
Could it be,
A message spoken so subtly,
Softly whispering between the gentle flutters of each wing:
Sometimes seasons call for rest, and
OUR wings must rest.
OUR bodies must calm
And our minds need to decompress
From the raging waters within
And that's okay,
For it's just for a season,
Just as tulips shed their petals, and slowly wither into winter's cold, hard ground, they'll soon bloom again when spring finds its way around,
So, there is no shame in resting our wings,
For these are the very seasons God Himself gave His life for - the life that resolved impossible demands,
Through a love fixated on bringing me home through every season,
And He sent a white butterfly to remind me He is my reason to rest.
Some say destruction is a form of creation.
But what did I create while destroying my body?
What was created while I was chipping away at my skin, slice by slice?
It's not until you step back and stop the destruction
that you realize you created resilience.
Even though the destructive thoughts
souround your essence in a thick fog of darkness,
hellbent on destroying everything in its path...
Destruction is a form of creation.
And every time you fight your way out of that fog,
you're destroying the clawing urges bit by bit—
and creating a resilience against the very destruction
you thought would be your end.
Destruction is a form of creation.
So create a victorious mind.
Freedom calls out to me,
just over the railings.
Freedom dances,
just out of reach
Freedom sings,
”Abandon your jailer, abandon Life
Abandon your duty, abandon Life,
Jump over the railings,
and join me in death.”
Desire possesses me,
a promise of freedom offered
with a heavy price to pay.
Behind the railings hide
A choice that may cost my life
Hesitations hold me back,
Ropes of responsibilities restrain,
Buried under building burdens.
Forced to forfeit my freedom.
You have clipped my wings,
Cries of desperation pulling me away.
I am bound. Trapped. Chained.
Won’t you set me free?
Black rose, black rose all may know your beauty
but your pain nobody knows.
Black rose, black rose oh the sorrow that you hold,
I feel it tearing deep into my soul, but you'll never let me close.
I guess that's why you were born with oh so many thorns, but just to be close to you
I'll be gladly sliced and torn.
Black rose, black rose the agony would be worth it all, just to feel a love
none has known before.
Black rose, black rose oh the power that you hold, all the horrors left untold,
your eyes are sullen and stoic like a stone.
Black rose, black rose let me bleed upon your thorns, let my lifeblood be adorned,
for me you'll never have to mourn my black rose.
Black rose
Stressed, he asks, yes
I am, knowing that you are the one have me in a mess
How can I be your significant other when you make me feel insignificant than your lover
Significant other? What does it mean?
It's says it's a person who is important to someone's well being
It can also refer to someone with whom someone has a romantic or sexual relationship that is likely to last longer
But with each passing day you leave me astray making our love not much stronger
If you really didn't want to be with me and I'm such a terrible person
Then maybe it's the reason I'm in my head cursin' thinking that one day I'll be rehearsin' my vows, my devotion
I thought I had it set in motion
But in reality, your reality, I'm just your insignificant other
The whole time I've been sitting here thinking that I was your significant other