Mentalhealth Poems - Poems about Mentalhealth

When the mind faltered Alternate timelines were born Lines of realities blurred Rifts of possibilities torn Truth fading into the abyss Chained to the unknown Silently waiting for life's kiss To shatter this stone cold throne Provoking thy swarming thoughts Clawing and scratching for the one Blinded by hopes deemed naught Until one's dreams are none Walls shaking and quaking Slashing and ripping Sharpening newfound wings Clutches of chaos beating Sealing...

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He doesn't cry in public- he's learned to bleed where no one looks. Where bathroom tiles keep secrets and mirrors lie just enough to keep him standing. he skips lunch again. just not hungry, he says but the hunger is real- not for food for someone to notice. for silence. his sleeves stay long, even in summer. skin whispering stories that no one ever asks to hear. because boys? boys don't break boys don't...

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they say boys don't cry, so he bleeds instead. silent screams hidden under hoodie threads. he skips meals like skipping pages in a book that no one wants to read- his ribs start spelling out "notice me" but no one speaks that language. "you're a boy, tough it out," they said when his voice shook like glass$and his hands begged for anything but silence. so he carved the words he couldn't...

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He sits in the back. Not because he wants to— but because he’s tired of being picked last when he dares to show up at all. You don’t see him. Not really. He’s there, though— in the bathroom stall during lunch, because his gut’s staging a protest. IBS, the silent screamer, writhing beneath his ribs like worms made of fire. They say, “It’s probably just nerves.” As if nerves...

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ping! like pavlov's dog, i glance quick at my phone new facebook follow request. i click the account click! my rapist. it's been nearly 14 years since the first the time he laid his hands on me but i feel them like it was this morning. ping! his son liked my post on Instagram , are they working together? are they a team again? father and son, teacher and apprentice, master of none but...

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Zero. I imagine you watched, With awe and wonder At the image on the screen, My movements In black and white, As the sonographer moved the wand, Up and down The belly of my mother, Showing you Mystery and excitement, The next chapter Of your lives. One. You gave me ice cream When you Definitely Were Not Supposed To, And I think a bond formed. Mischief by mouthfuls, We were already unstoppable. Two, Three, Four. Toddler...

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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...

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I will never forget the first time I lost someone to suicide. The deafening screams that I created, The shock, Followed by the aftershock. I will never forget you Matthew, I won't let myself forget you. As to forget is to accept, And if I accept your death, I’m afraid of how the system we fought for so long will continue to...

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They say the world is full of voices, But mine gets lost among the sound. A whisper drowned by louder choices, A silence no one seems to hound. I walked through halls of hollow laughter, Their eyes slid past like I was air. I smiled, and moments later, after, They left—and I was still not there. My name, a note they never mention, My...

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I used to think poems lived in leather-bound books, guarded by professors with stern looks, that words worth speaking needed permission, academic citations, scholarly submission. I sat in corners swallowing syllables, choking on metaphors I couldn't pronounce, wondering why my tongue tied itself in knots while others spoke verses smooth as river stones. The first time I wrote something real, my hands shook like...

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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...

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I look down now And I can just barely see The thin, pale white lines From the girl I used to be The girl who’s not so far gone Not as dead as you think But instead of watching skin bleed She now just puts it in ink As the clock ticked faster The calendar pages flipped More and more time passed And the scars started...

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And in the girl's head The shoulders that used to hold wings Now held the weight of the world. ...

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Sometimes living feels like a chore One I don't want to do But there are reasons For which I persist. When my dog wags her tail when I say her name To get to see my nephew grow old Long walks in the woods with the people I love Seeing people smile New music Old music Conversations about nothing with people I've never met And will never...

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I dived into the cauldron of magic potion and transformed into the person who I was.ME ! The Me that was missing pieces that felt so deeply about things. The Me that had that innocence of a child ,who looked at everything in life with amazement and marveled at the wonders of life. The Me who lived with...

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