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Pixy Pen Poem
Save me from myself
From the darkness within
The demons that haunt me
And the pain I feel so deeply
I long for peace and serenity
But my mind is a battlefield
Where anxiety and fear wage war
Leaving me wounded and broken
I seek refuge in distraction
In temporary escapes from reality
But they only offer fleeting solace
Before the turmoil returns once more
Save me from this cycle of despair
Help me find the light within
To guide me out of this darkness
And heal my weary soul
Let love be my salvation
And kindness my compass
Lead me to a place of healing
Where I can finally be free
Save me from myself
And show me a way forward
Towards a brighter tomorrow
Where hope shines eternal.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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Pixy Pen Poem
In the quiet moments of life's embrace,
When shadows linger, leaving a trace,
Healing whispers softly in the night,
Guided by faith, an endless light.
With every wound and scar we bear,
Hope arises from whispered prayer.
Faith's gentle touch, a soothing balm,
Restores our spirit, brings us calm.
Laughter dances in our hearts,
A spark of joy that never departs.
In times of sorrow, humor's grace,
Turns tears to smiles, brightens our face.
Together we journey, hand in hand,
Healing's path, a sacred land.
With faith as our guide and joy in our stride,
We'll find solace, side by side.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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Pixy Pen Poem
In the realm of dreams we wander,
Crafting worlds both bright and somber.
Lost in illusions we have spun,
Entwined with shadows, every one.
The dreamer crafts each fleeting scene,
Woven with whispers, soft, serene.
Yet dreams themselves hold mystic might,
Born from our thoughts, both day and night.
How do we wake from this deep trance?
When reality seems to dance?
Both creator and creation,
Bound by our own imagination.
The lines blur 'tween truth and lie,
As we navigate the surreal sky.
Seeking ourselves within the dream,
Hoping to unravel our scheme.
In a web of thoughts, we are bound,
Searching for truths yet unfound.
To awaken from our slumber deep,
We must find the secrets dreams keep.
Both dreamer and dreamed we remain,
In this enchanting, endless domain.
Breaking free, we hope to see,
A world where dreams and truth agree.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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Pixy Pen Poem
In the quiet depths where shadows swell,
I dive into the ocean of grief,
Where the waves whisper secrets,
And the tides pull at my heart,
A current of sorrow, heavy and relentless,
Yet, here I am, swimming through the depths.
The water is cold, a stark embrace,
Each stroke a reminder of what once was,
Faces float by like distant memories,
Their laughter echoing in the ripples,
I chase them down, but they slip away,
Like grains of sand through my weary fingers.
I wade through the pools of despair,
Each drop a tear, each wave a pain,
The surface glistens with a deceptive charm,
But beneath lies a tempest, wild and untamed,
I fight against the undertow,
Yet it pulls me under, deeper still.
I remember the sunlit days,
When joy was a buoy, holding me high,
Now, the skies are cloaked in gray,
And I search for light in the murky depths,
But every flicker flickers out,
Leaving me gasping, longing for air.
The water is a paradox,
It carries my sorrow but also my strength,
Each ripple a testament to my survival,
Each breath a defiance against the abyss,
I learn to navigate the currents of loss,
To find solace in the struggle, in the fight.
I encounter the shadows of my sorrow,
They dance around me like specters,
Whispering tales of what was lost,
Yet in their haunting, I find a rhythm,
A strange beauty in the ache,
A melody woven from the threads of grief.
I swim through the depths of memory,
Where laughter mingles with tears,
Every stroke a tribute to love,
Every gasp a reminder of life,
I am a swimmer in an ocean of grief,
But I am also a vessel of hope.
I rise to the surface, breaking free,
The light spills over, golden and warm,
And though the scars remain etched deep,
They tell a story of resilience and grace,
For in the act of swimming through sorrow,
I find the strength to float once more.
So, I embrace the waves, I embrace the pain,
For grief is a journey, not a destination,
With every stroke, I learn to carry on,
To honor what I've lost while living anew,
In this vast sea of emotion, I find my place,
Swimming in grief, yet learning to breathe.
As I reach the shore, the horizon beckons,
A promise of dawn, a whisper of peace,
I learned to swim in the depths of despair,
And though grief will linger like a shadow,
I rise, I breathe, I embrace the day,
For in the water's embrace, I've found my way.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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Pixy Pen Poem
In the stillness of a twilight hour,
Where shadows stretch and silence grows,
I call out to the fading light,
But the echo returns not, as it goes.
Beneath the boughs of ancient trees,
Whispers linger on the breeze,
Yet every word I cast in air
Is swallowed whole by the unseen seas.
I stand beside the silent brook,
Its waters murmur tales of old,
But every ripple fades away,
And the stories remain untold.
Once, the laughter danced like fire,
A symphony of joy and mirth,
But now the notes are lost in time,
A quiet ache, a heavy dearth.
I wander through the halls of memory,
Where portraits fade and colors blur,
Each face a ghost, each smile a sigh,
Yet the echo returns not, as I stir.
I reach for moments, grasping thin air,
Fingers trailing where dreams once soared,
But the chasm between us widens wide,
And the heartache feels like a sword.
In the gardens where we once would tread,
Petals fall like tears from the sky,
Each bloom a whisper of what was said,
Yet the echo returns not; it bids goodbye.
Time moves on, a relentless tide,
Washing away the footprints left,
And though I search for what remains,
The past is cloaked in a quiet theft.
So I learn to listen to the silence,
To find beauty in the void,
For though the echoes may not return,
In the stillness, I am not destroyed.
I carry forward the seeds of hope,
Plant them deep in the soil of my heart,
For every end births a new beginning,
And from the silence, I shall not part.
The echo returns not, but I remain,
A vessel of love, a keeper of light,
In the absence of sound, I hear the truth—
In the depths of the night, I find my flight.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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Pixy Pen Poem
## The Feast
They gather in the shadowed corners of my mind,
A ravenous horde, their forms undefined.
Not flesh and bone, but whispers sharp and cold,
They gnaw at peace, and stories left untold.
Doubt, the gaunt hound, with eyes that never blink,
He sniffs at joy, and leaves a bitter stink.
Anxiety, the spider, spins her silken snare,
Trapping my breath, and tangling in my hair.
Despair, the serpent, coils around my heart,
Squeezing the hope, tearing my world apart.
He hisses low, of worthlessness and pain,
A constant echo in the pouring rain.
They feast on dreams, and visions bright and bold,
Leaving behind a wasteland, barren, cold.
They steal my voice, and paralyze my hand,
Leaving me lost within this desolate land.
But even in the darkness, a flicker starts to grow,
A tiny ember, refusing to let go.
It’s the will to fight, the strength to rise and stand,
To reclaim my mind, to take back my own land.
For though they feast, they cannot truly win,
The human spirit burns, a fire from within.
And one day soon, I’ll banish them from sight,
And bathe my soul in healing, golden light.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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