Spokenwords Stories

──────── ₊⋆☽◯☾⋆₊ ──────── 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 is a poetic memoir of becoming, an unfolding of myself, one fragile petal at a time. This collection traces my journey through the fragile and tangled years of teenagehood. Through each poem, you would get a glimpse of raw and unfiltered moments of love, heartbreak, loss, confusion and even hints of clarity. The title is more than just a name : it is a metaphor of growth and acceptance . Each year, each experience was a petal unfolding . Some were soft like teenage innocence while others were jagged, stained with blood, weathered by heartbreak and resilient in reaching. Some were glowing red under the eternal sunlight of euphoria while others were withered due to the droughts of insecurity and floods of pent up emotions . But together these roses compose the bouquet of my becoming. Now I offer this bouquet to you, dear reader, and hope you find petals of your own and embrace the garden you are meant to be. ──────── ₊⋆☽◯☾⋆₊ ──────── 𝟗 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 ⟪ h i g h e s t r a n k i n g s ⟫ #1 in poesia (out of 15k stories) #1 in spokenword (out of 4.57k stories) #1 in personalthoughts (out of 2.5k stories) #1 in personalexperience (out of 1.57k stories) #1 in freeverse (out of 7.74k stories)

True emotions are hard to admit. When they are raw, they are harder to express. Stains of a Bleeding Mind is a collection of poems I wrote from my experiences, exploring self-worth, acceptance, body positivity, kindness, growth, moral ills, betrayal, love, and self-discovery. It covers topics that range from the deeply personal to wider, universal issues that many people can relate to. They are words that are not easy to say and feelings I cannot express, so I put them on paper.

some things hurt less with time. some things just become easier to carry. these are the things i wrote down along the way.

🖤Disclaimer: This poetry collection is about sexual desire of a woman for a man that keeps appearing in her dreams. So some poems may contain some explicity, sensual words, etc. . . . . He once appeared in my dream... Then he appeared for the second time... He appeared again in my dream. Is he trying to say something? That is an answer I cannot find. It happened again this week, like it always does. Is he trying to tell me that he is mine? - EVA

THE HALF MOON What happens when the night becomes more than just darkness? The Half Moon is a haunting and imaginative journey through silence, emotion, solitude, and the mysterious things we notice when the world becomes quiet. Under a dark sky, beneath a changing moon, ordinary thoughts begin to take a different shape. The moon becomes a witness. The silence becomes a voice. And what first appears beautiful slowly reveals something wild, watchful, and feral. Through poetic imagery and raw emotion, *The Half Moon* invites you to look beyond what you see-to explore the thoughts we hide, the words we never say, and the darker sides of being human. Sometimes, the night does not need to speak. It only watches. And perhaps the moon has seen more of us than we realize. Written by Faith Ayemere

Where Is Home? I'm writing this from my own experience. I don't know where to start. I have a lot of things I don't know. I have no other place to go. I keep running, trying to find a place to fall. Take me home, where I belong. But where is home when I don't even know myself? ...

I called this collection Too Much, Too Loud, Too Me because that's exactly what being a teenage girl felt like. Too much feeling. Too loud in my own head. Too much heart for one body to hold. Hormones turned up the volume on everything - the crushes, the heartbreaks, the anger, the joy. One minute I was on top of the world, the next I was crying in the shower over something I can't even remember now. These poems are the teenage me. Unfiltered. Unapologetic. A little dramatic, a little messy, and completely real. They're about the nights I felt like I was too much for people. The days I was told to be quieter, smaller, calmer. But I wasn't. I was loud. I was big. I was me. These poems are the teenage me: messy, loud, insecure, brave, and completely in love with feeling. If you've ever been called "too sensitive" or "too emotional"... these poems are for you. Because too much is not a bad thing. Sometimes it's the only way to be alive.

Dear ____, Why can't I send letters right? This is a compilation of poetry, letters, and spoken words about writing letters to someone you care or hate, that you'll never send. Hope u like it! more poems here: https://www.poetry.com/user/465028/k2.tab14%2B p.s. this is my first time making something like this, so pls no hate

Filled with sad, heart felt poetry, and weeks worth of work. Hope u enjoy it :)

Sometimes you're told a story so many times, you stop questioning it. Until it begins to unravel. Among the pieces left behind are grief, anger, joy and answers. The search for an identity of your own can finally begin.

just random poems i wrote :) mainly for writing practice, feedback is welcome!

TW: THEMES OF BODY IMAGE AND MENTAL HEALTH (DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, ETC.) emotions are like waves // but i'm fine // really. this poetry collection dives into the world of the inner soul, exploring places that were hidden away from reality. these poems explore the struggle of staying afloat when you don't know how to swim the waters. for anyone who ever felt too sensitive; reality is colder than you think.

Just some poems I scribbled down and decided to post for y'all to read.

"For the versions of me I outgrew, feared, faked, and finally faced." 8 Letters to Myself is a collection of eight poems written as unsent letters: to the person I was, the person I am, and the people I could have been. Each piece speaks to a different self: the one I'm becoming, the one I'm afraid to become, the one I never got to be, and the one others swore I would be. It's about masks, grief, hope, and the quiet work of choosing who to keep. Short enough to read in one sitting. Honest enough to sit with you for longer. --- Author's Note I didn't set out to write a book. I set out to tell myself the truth. These 8 letters started as whispers I was too scared to say out loud. Some were angry. Some were apologies. All of them were necessary. If you've ever felt split between who you were, who you are, and who you're supposed to be, this is for you. Not to fix you. Just to sit with you while you figure it out. Thank you for reading my mail. -Joy ---

Masarap MAGMAHAL, Masakit MAIWAN

Life begins quietly. Love follows. Loss changes everything. An Empty Canvas, Learning to Breathe is a collection of soft confessions, unreturned love, and the slow, painful process of learning how to exist after someone leaves. These poems are for anyone who loved deeply, lost quietly, and is still here-breathing.

These are my raw, honest emotions.😫

For the Girls Who Never Found the Words For the girl who feels everything but doesn't know how to explain it. For the woman who learned to keep her feelings to herself. For the ones who have loved deeply, been hurt quietly, compared themselves to others, and wondered if they were ever enough. For the girl who is still trying to understand herself. These poems are for you. Some of these words belong to me. Some of them might feel like they belong to you. And if you ever struggled to say what was on your heart, I hope you find a little piece of your voice in these pages. You were never too much. You were never too difficult to understand. You just needed somewhere safe enough to speak.

You won't find anything here. Only feelings that has been spilled onto pages, as blood, sweat, and tears drip drops. A book of hidden words that hopefully reaches your ears, and be seen by your eyes.