Mental Poems - Poems about Mental

My name is printed in a column, Politely, like a queue, A school crocodile line. Two words in staining ink. My fingertips, They have turned black, Tracing lines of a curling print, Prints burned away by fire, Off a silent roasting child, Fat, bean-ish, and blonde. I saw the advent of my article, My little contribution, Beside the colossus of stocks, My two fine words, Dwarfed by the daily...

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A covert narcissist dressed in a hand-me-down victim cloak, Master of the tear-tantrum tactic — He sniffles, sobs, and simpers until your defenses drop, Then slides a betrayal in your back so smooth you almost thank him. A codependent parasite latched to his mother’s emotional tit like a tick, Bound by an enmeshed dynamic so tight you'd think she birthed...

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Her soul was starved of acceptance An aching hunger wanting to be fed Her body weak Not from the lack of food But for the lack of love for her skin Being black meant a life where no matter what she did She would never win She couldn't control her race But she could control her body She wanted to be...

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They tactically play it out, So you're left feeling the shame, Then they act the victim, Making out as you're to blame. Setting you up to fail, Using mind games as their tool, For it to appear to others, Like you're just a crazy fool. Eating away at your happiness, Replacing your smiles with a frown, Being as nasty as possible, In order to drag you...

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The feeling of letting go... Letting go of what became the new norm Letting go of my recent familiarities Letting go of work which I live for at the moment Letting go of control of what I seem to feel I have under control Letting go of that comforting feeling of friends being in the surrounds... Then I come to the...

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Bullies exude a malevolent force And victims suffer their mean hellish toll What is their ultimate unpleasant goal? Are we their punish-for-pleasure resource? It’s more than their world’s an OCD course Where we’re just glass marbles that they can roll They’re addicts who relish life as a troll Like unwelcome Vikings from cold lands Norse These predators think they’re on a high horse They...

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a hush beneath the hum of the world, carved by paw or claw or time’s quiet insistence. A hollow stitched in earth’s dark under breath, where roots dangle like forgotten chandeliers and the soil holds its secrets close. It is a cradle of stillness, a sanctuary shaped from necessity — warmth scraped from cold, shelter borrowed...

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She wouldn't let the guilt warp her mind into believing its perception of her She knew who she was And she was is a girl who's been deeply hurt She knew deep down no one was coming to save her That she would have to see herself Hear herself And listen to her self The pain ached It felt...

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Why are you back Looking in the mirror and only seeing disdain These things begin to taint my brain Why are you back Intrusive thoughts of severing skin Again they begin Why are you back Inability to feel joy while surrounded by it Numbness consuming me bit by bit Why are you back I told you to go I knew you didn't want to; I felt...

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I am wildly conscious of the fact I don’t know how to speak up anymore. I feel like I’m yelling and no one can Hear me I was told to shut up, then told to Speak up I enunciate so much, maybe it’ll be enough. I’ll repeat myself like I can’t hear the voices of those Who convinced me I was always going to...

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She started crying in the middle of rages— not the soft kind, but sharp, like she’d cut herself on something I couldn’t see. She slammed drawers. Shouted at a spoon. Broke a plate and sobbed as if the world had cracked with it. Before she left, my mother filled the kitchen with notes written on paper towels— taped to the cupboards, the countertops, the fridge. I couldn’t read, but...

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Each petal cuts me in my sleep— you call it soft, but I bleed every time I touch it. The mirror doesn’t cry with me anymore. Only the fog stays. It hums like a swallowed scream. ...

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Midnight prayers, don't work. Yesterday's lies Made happiness cry. Today without that mistake, some of us wouldn't be here today. Thats life ...

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She always hated the sight of blood But now it had become her greatest comfort She felt her blood was the only one who understood What it was like to be judged Both hated on for their colour Both wanting to be hidden Both wanting to be invisible Each cut sent waves of euphoria throughout her body She wasn't a masochist...

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Moving my hands. My hands twisting and almost tackling each other. Colliding knuckles. Frantic and desperate. Eyes grazing and chewing. Jaw moving side to side. Everything seems so much like- A lack of communication. So I twirl my body around. As if I’m holding a ribbon. Almost falling over. Realizing that I haven’t said a word....

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