As you look back through the small moments of life, you rarely stop to consider their meaning. The morning sun shining through your bedroom window, the familiar sound of someone calling your name, the laughter shared over something insignificant. All these things seem so small when they happen. So ordinary that you hardly give them a second thought.

this poem was inspired by the raw emotions and truth behind how I feel and felt for one of my classmates

this poem is about feeling sad and regretting things, I used dead rose because its meaning feeling like your losing yourself and not being the same and you know you'll never be that same person because of what you went thru and what it turned you into

Just a poem about AI being used by doctors to pass med school and the issue with that when it comes to treating patients

Coming to grips with a failed relationship. Contemplating the emotions involved, and the resolve to carry on.

A poem on lycanthropy, lust, domination, hunger, and gluttony. A glimse into the darkness under the blood moon.

This poem is from the perspective of an abuse victim distancing their abuser from the anger they show.

In this poem I attempted to embody the need for validation and destined love that never had a chance to live up to "fate's" expectations. I was very much inspired by the red string of fate, though instead of the strings being destined, it instead represents strength in a relationship

This poem is the introduction to my poetry collection about experiencing mental health disorders. Hurricane in My Head is the title of this collection, because struggling with mental health conditions in my own personal life, has felt like withstanding a hurricane inside my head. I have been dealing with mental health issues since I was seventeen, and I am now twenty-two. I aspire to encourage and relate to people with my poetry.

A striking tension—the heavy burden of keeping an intricate internal life hidden behind a fragile outer shell.

I had met a friend in the town I went to school in for years. He was one thing, but the image that the community wanted did not align. I felt so terrible for the position he was in, so I decided to channel it into this poem/song.

Love has a million words, a million and one expressions. It can even be comparable to the one who loves you. What if that same love given became like magic to the eye and there were no mistakes. Would you blink? Bat an eye in disgust? Roll them all the way to the back of your tip-pity feet? Or cover them shut with a woman’s defeat.

A vortex of pure black replaces what, just moments before, was a beautiful field of stars and galaxies. Void of mercy, void of care for what it claims. Once in its path only one fate remains. What once was, is no more. Halos of fractured silver, a spinning shroud of stolen stardust, silent, infinite, an invisible edge of eternal midnight that destroys the dawn. Invading cosmic mirrors. The collapse begins within. The gravity slips beneath the flesh. Laughter is silenced. Joy is depleted. Leaving nothing but an empty, hollow, aching abyss. The pull is strong. The hunger is real. The invisible boundary surrounding the singularity where escape becomes impossible. The screaming thoughts fade. Leaving only negative space.

This piece is about how wanting to be thinner can slowly change the way you see yourself and your body. It explores insecurity, comparison, and the feeling that no matter how much you change, you are still never “small enough.” It also focuses on how the word “healthy,” which is usually meant as a compliment, can feel completely different when your mind connects being skinny with beauty, control, and worth.

Every town has something it tells you to fear after dark. The trouble is, everybody keeps looking in the same direction.

## **Excerpt from “Praise Song for the Black Women Poets of This Century”** They write the body back to itself. They write Black girlhood in full color. They write mothers, lovers, fugitives, saints, skeptics, dreamers, and witnesses. Their lines refuse erasure. Their metaphors carry water to generations thirsty for a language of becoming. And when they speak, the page does not remain a page— it becomes a doorway, a gathering, a drumbeat, a dawn.

At twenty-seven, my body shut down and death came for me twice. I survived the machines, the silence, the fear, and the wreckage left behind. This poem is about living after the emergency is over—carrying invisible trauma, learning that “fine” and “healed” are not the same, and finding the strength to keep writing a life the world had already ended.

You will find raw, Soul poetry here. Each piece has been channeled through me for a purpose. If you find yourself reading this, perhaps that too, is for a purpose.

You will find raw, Soul poetry here. Each piece has been channeled through me for a purpose. If you find yourself reading this, perhaps that too, is for a purpose.

What if someone saw through your strongest armor and chose to stay anyway? This poem is a promise of loyalty, hope, and unwavering presence for someone fighting battles no one else can see. Through storms, broken pieces, exhausted breaths, and impossible days, one heart quietly says: *I’m here.* It’s about finding light in someone’s darkness, becoming their safe place, and choosing them—not just for today, but for every tomorrow.