a collection of poems inspired by stories I've read, people I've met and paths I've crossed, read and enjoy yourself:)

This is a series of short stories, poems and thoughts I've written over the years, compiled into this collection. Most of these were written years ago. Some I've written as early as this year (2025). The purpose of this volume is to feel. Feel everything as though you are the main character experiencing each emotion expressed through my writing. These are written through my perspective as a woman, but please let this resonate with you regardless of your identity. Please vote, comment, like and share. Thank you! - nhiamare

This is for all of you who feel like the world hates you. Who takes a blade to their skin. Who looks them self in the mirror and criticizes themselves. Who is hurt on the outside. Who is broken on the inside. Who feel the need to stay strong and cry by themselves in the dark emptiness. Who feel like they have no one when they are surrounded by millions. Who are hit. Who are tortured. Who are hurt. Who weep. Who need a hug from someone once in a while to unload the hurt. The pain they carry within them coiled in the disaster and wretched awakening of their tears is more than we can measure. No one but them knows the feeling and the burden they carry. I hope you read this, and feel like this has helped you. Even if one in a million love you, sometimes that one persons love can cover the other nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine people's hate. Just know that there are people who will love you. Who will hug you. Who will let you cry on their white shirt and ruin it with your mascara or stain it with your tears. ➖➖➖➖➖➖ Gwen Holland has lead the life of abuse. Of depression. Of hurt. Bearing with her the wight of the sky. Bruises lining her stomach. Broken bones every month. Bags under her eyes from lost sleep. Patches of blue and black bruises laced like silk on her body. She has kept it all a secret with full sleeve shirts, jeans and tights. But all this is at stake when her heart finds the person to whom she can fully unload her burden on. Who can help her. But to Gwen, Allen Walker is the last person who would even understand. ➖➖➖➖➖➖ *DISCLAIMER* This story contains graphic violence, self harm and suicidal chapters. There are detailed abuse and lines that may seem inappropriate to some people. So if you feel discomfort then feel free to read something else. ➖➖➖➖➖➖

This is the story of an abused teenage girl, Maddie. Her need to die has become overwhelming and she is trying to find a way to help herself before she does something she may regret. The story is told from her point of view as she recalls all that has happened to her. Maybe telling her story will help her, maybe not. This isn't just any other sob story. This is more realistic. You may even find yourself comparing your life to Maddie's while reading this story. Disclosure: I wrote this as a 13-year-old and the writing is definitely not up to my current standards, but I feel as though changing what I have already written would take away from the emotion I put into this story at 13 years old. If you'd like an updated and more well-written version, please read my other story entitled "Remembering". TW/CW: domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault, depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation

My second collection of poetry, thoughts, and more. Mostly just empty words for empty people, Feel free to read..

A collection of poems about heartbreak, trauma, survival and recovery. Trigger warning to sensitive readers 🖤

This is a personal documentation through poetry. I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it be enough for you. 2022

Why did you have to leave me ..

A collection of self written poems. For the lonely, For the broken hearted, Beautiful well meaning beings looking for their own pure hearts feelings.

I used to think there'd be no living without you. Then, you walked away. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. We finally stopped making sense to you. So, you left. Why wouldn't you. It didn't matter that it still made sense to me. That I still held on to all those what ifs and unanswered questions of us. Still hoped for things to work out somehow. Still needed things to work out. Needed it like food and water. This story might not make much sense to you, reader. It was written for him. And in many ways for myself. But I am grateful for your desire to explore our life's tale non the less. It was quite something. I hope you'll get something out of it.