The memories of time spent together. will always warm my heart How I miss those days where we would spend hours doing nothing
But those are gone The echoes of laughter linger still, In moments that time cannot fulfill. Chasing shadows beneath the stars, Dreaming of futures, unmarked by scars.
Though seasons have changed and paths diverged, In the tapestry of life, our memories surged. I carry your smile, a beacon of light, Guiding me gently through the darkest of nights.
So here’s to the days, both joyful and sweet, To the warmth of your presence, each moment a treat. Though distance may grow and life pull us apart, You’ll always be cherished, forever in my heart.
Before the storm, a warning: light grows sharp and thin, A whisper at the temples, an ache beneath the skin. The world begins to shimmer, colors blur and bend— A silent drum is beating, sending its signals.
During comes the pounding, relentless, and severe, A throb behind the eyelids, the sound you cannot hear. Each movement sparks a ripple, each thought is met with pain, You close your eyes and wonder if you’ll ever feel the same.
Afterwards, the silence—soft, a gentle, fragile peace, The world returns in fragments; the pulsing finally ceased. You’re weary as a river that’s finally met the sea, Grateful for the quiet and the hope of being free.
In a land where the drummers go thump, Lived a silly old guy who was known as Dumbump. He danced with abandon, making quite the loud drum, While friends all around laughed and said, “What a bum!”
One day in a park, he found a big dump, Full of treasures and junk—a real funky lump. He gathered up trinkets, a hat, and a pump, And said, “Watch me play on this garbage-filled rump!”
So they took to the streets, making music so wild, With drums made of garbage, they sang like a child. Drum, Dumb, and Dump—what a trio to see, In a world full of laughter, they were wild and free!
Bashful butterflies flutter about, yearning to befriend others, yet their fears hold them back each time.
All they desire is to be liked, but they struggle to understand how. In their quest, they try to become someone they are not.
Little did they know that this was not the way until they stumbled upon a garden bright, where colors danced in the warm sunlight. Among the blossoms, a wise old bee whispered gently, “Just be free.
Embrace your colors, your gentle sway, for the truest friends will love you as you play. No need to change, no mask to wear, your heartfelt spirit is beyond compare.”
With newfound courage, they spread their wings, navigating blooms and the joy it brings. No longer bashful, they twirled in delight, finding friendships that felt just right.
Together they laughed, together they soared, in a world where love was the greatest reward. So remember, dear friend, in your own special way, authenticity is what helps you play.
Some days, I can brush my thoughts aside, But others, they linger, refusing to hide. Negative whispers echo, a relentless refrain, Looping through my mind like a relentless chain.
I'm not good enough for anyone to truly like me. People only stick around for what they can gain from me. I'm too boring; that's why friends drift away. I have to change who I am to be liked. I always end up disappointed by broken promises. My need for acceptance is pathetic. No one really understands or sees the real me. I don't deserve love or happiness. I fail to meet the expectations of those around me. I'll always be alone and unimportant. I'll never find someone who truly values me. I will always struggle to connect with others. My efforts never lead to any meaningful relationships. I am constantly let down by others. I am not worthy of friendship or love.
Most days, I know that this is not true, But at times, it is hard to fight the thoughts, And then I start to believe them.
Therapy has been my guiding light; I’ve learned skills to cope and fight. Though they help me more often than not, Negative thoughts still creep in and cloud my thoughts.
Friends and family lend a hand, Yet only a few truly understand. Their efforts, though kind, sometimes fall short, More hindrance than help in the emotional sport.
Here I stand, pushing through, Some days weigh heavy, it’s true. In the battle with my mind, I fight hard, but peace is hard to find.
Yet I promise I will rise anew, Just a little time, and I’ll break through. Though the struggle might seem long, I’ll find my strength and carry on.
A therapist leaves, his time away, Paternity leave call, he mustn’t stay. Happy for him, but I feel blue, Disappointment swells, what can I do?
July feels far, as I wait and sigh, Wishing for guidance, asking “Why?” He sent some names, suggested new, But starting fresh feels strange and new.
With skills he’s shared, I’ll try to cope, Holding on tight to the seeds of hope. Though the path ahead may feel unclear, I’ll carry his lessons until he’s near.
M.A.D. Works 