Since you’ve been gone I’ve learned how to break. How to smile while dying how to shatter and fake. I’m stitching my soul with the threads of regret. But some holes are wounds you just can’t forget.

I try to stand, but I spiral again, Back to the dark where I lose all my friends. Will I climb out, or get lost in the sky? Will I make it back up… or just die getting high? I don’t know what’s real, or how I should feel,

This poem was written during my Junior year of high school.It is my first ever poem and one of my friends favorites to this day due to its raw emotion and passion.

The Hidden Hand moves, patient and still, Bending the city to its quiet will. Whispers slip through the midnight air, Truth dissolves, and none can care. Windows flicker with borrowed light, Debt coils tighter, day turns to night. The streets obey, the people sleep, While shadows crawl in silence deep.

The Hidden Hand moves— silent, patient, everywhere. Whispers curl through midnight air, truth dissolves, and none can care. Towers scrape, the clouds all bend, markets twist, and debts don’t end. Shadows crawl where hope should sleep, corruption pulses, running deep.

Dedication For Ellie, Avery, and Toby— my three little lights, my chaos, my reason, my breaking, my healing, my everything. ---

TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE AND SEXUAL ABUSE my moms ex-husband started abusing me when I was 3 and the sexual abuse started when I was 4. it went on for years and even after he went to jail the things he said and did to me stuck in my head for years to come. I'm still trying to heal from them all. I never got my closure or justice he didn't go to jail for what he did to me. I wrote this and posted this back in 2021. when I lost my virginity its like this wall I built up in my mind as a kid came crashing down and all the memories came flooding through of everything he did to me. I wrote this to help me to heal. my family had their suspicions but when I shared what I wrote reality hit them, he had hurt me as well. I hate him with everything in me and I may never get my closure or justice but I wont let him have this hold over me anymore. so like I said I hate him but I forgive him.

everyone has a caged heart at some point in their lives and its hard to heal from all of the pain and trama it has been through. caging it up and locking the door is the only way to keep it safe so we thought. sometimes the right person comes along and they stick around to help heal our hearts and unlocks the cage. its okay to let them in.

I had an abortion at 19 and it was the most horrific experience of my life. 7 years later and I continue to heal.

Was it any given day that made a sermon turn to each kindred soul and speak? It can be that dawn cracks the ages. On occasion, and at most, dawn is plain and dawn completes a new day. To hell, the nay sayers say. But who spawned first, the drug or the addict?

Never alone Lost in my mind with no one around. Just here hoping that I can be found. I need someone who really cares, That can snap me out of these lonely stares.

My stolen mind The thoughts that have me captive, Neverending noise I hear. Not just one but many, Have me living life in fear. No matter what direction I go, The path I'm on is rough. Leading me to problems, I've had about enough.

It all came crashing down on me. From every direction, no one agreed. It became heavy and crushing. But to my aid no one was rushing.

August 21, 2025 — 4:52 AMReclamation Statement — The Return Some dissapearances are sacred and needed. its the comeback that matters.

A detailed description of Depression Pain, as best as I can explain it based on my years of experience feeling it.

As kids growing up we had the talk about the kids our parents warned us about. Maybe we should give them a chance to explain themselves.

When you dig deep like struggle or keep with self as close as a teat is to a newborn’s tongue, there will be no air left to breathe.

I will never finish falling in love with you. It did not start in sparkles and fairy-light displays. It started in the warm recess of my kitchen sink drain that you told me I should clean more, or I’d have a mold problem. It started in drip-dropping rain puddles that have worn grooves into your patio. There was no song playing as I waltzed down a silver staircase into your gaze, but there were notes left in the margins of my mind after long car rides and soft music. There were coat colors of navy blue and orange that raced down my street, worn by small children with big faces. There was a hummingbird we named Carl and a cat, Rosie, whom you hated. There were big, fuzzy purple socks—the kind you get from your granny—which I received with chocolates and flowers from a “Secret Admirer.”

This poem was written about miscarriage. I decided to explain what it felt like in my eyes, but the best thing about this poem is not only could it be about miscarriages, but it could be about the loss of anyone important in your life. A poem about the ones that got away too soon. -E.S

Poem by me about a dream that should have lasted forever, but it was too scary to continue as it held a truth one could not bear to hear. -E.S