Mental health Poems
In the Back of Math Class
by AP Writes
No one asked
why I laughed too hard at 9 a.m.,
why my hands shook
when the room was too quiet,
why my bag clanked,
why I kept a hoodie on
even in the heat.
I was thirteen,
and life felt too big to touch,
......
Glass ghost
by AP Writes
You sit where I swore I’d never see you again—
bottle half-drained,
still sweating in the dark,
like you never left.
You wear my fingerprints
like trophies.
You know what I’ll do
before I do it.
......
Clammy Hands Around the Throat of a Bottle
by AP Writes
I was eleven
when the burn started to feel like home—
not the fire,
but the numb that followed.
The breathtaking silence
of my brain slowly
shutting down.
It wasn’t rebellion,
not really.
......
Hall Pass
by AP Writes
We passed pens like rumors
in the bathroom,
smoke curling
into secrets we never wanted to keep.
It wasn’t rebellion,
more like trying to make the day
a little softer around the edges,
like padding a fall
we already knew was coming.
......
The Ache Beneath the Thirst
by AP Writes
I was eleven
when I learned the burn of vodka
could quiet the voice in my head,
the one that kept asking
why am I still here?
I drank from a water bottle filled with Bicardi
in the back of 8th grade history,
and the teacher’s words became
white noise I floated in.
......
The New Chapter
by Liam Wright
His story had started
But he wanted to end it
His story had started
With all the feelings he blended
Right foot then left foot
He began to wobble
Right foot only
He began to hobble
He reached out for help
but he couldn't find it
......
How I would paint confusion and how confusion would paint me
by Liam Wright
Fallen leaves
A lack of green
My brush strokes on the canvas
I paint the sands in all it's Tanness
Cactus thorns and rows of corn
Snow and rain
Confusing pain
Light with no sun and Laughter with no fun
I'm not understanding
Trees in the sand
......
107. Withheld
by Kea Campbell
There's a horrifying creak that grows more brittle in unwelcome and unkind time.
It's ripping apart at each ablated site and teases my mind with the end of my time.
Muffled through my chest are groans, exhausted, weak, and flooding with pain.
No one does realize, and I won't tell a soul, that one ghost pump could mark my final day.
It's a blessing to wake up and think, because it means you still know you're alive.
So take advantage of all the ways to twist your brain and exercise your mind's inclines.
It's a blessing to see, taste, touch, and smell; so, experience the earth while you still can.
......
The Ache Beneath the Thirst
by AP Writes
I was eleven
when I learned the burn of vodka
could quiet the voice in my head,
the one that kept asking
why am I still here?
I drank from a water bottle filled with Bicardi
in the back of 8th grade history,
and the teacher’s words became
white noise I floated in.
......
Hall Pass
by AP Writes
We passed pens like rumors
in the bathroom,
smoke curling
into secrets we never wanted to keep.
It wasn’t rebellion,
more like trying to make the day
a little softer around the edges,
like padding a fall
we already knew was coming.
......
