All of our stories begin,
In the very same way
Branching out from
Our family trees.

Reaching for the sky
Soaking up the sun’s
Rays, while staying
Grounded in our roots.

Growing ever-stronger,
Facing the seasons
Graceful in the breeze.
Strong during storms.

Turning over a new leaf.
Bending rather than breaking.
Refreshed after rain, and
Providing strangers with shelter.

To those who say that suicide is for cowards, I say this:

They always ask me,
“Any history of mental illness in the family?”
Like it’s a checkbox. Like it’s a gene you can switch off
if you marry someone with better coping skills.

No.
Yes.
I mean
I’m not crying because I miss someone,
I’m not heartbroken.
I didn’t just lose my job or get dumped or forget to eat lunch.
This isn’t a bad day. This is a brain thing.
This is a chemical cocktail shaken not stirred,
this is serotonin doing the Harlem Shake in my skull,
this is don’t tell me to cheer up,
this is I can’t help it,
this is I would if I could but I can’t, so I’m stuck in this loop again.

It starts with a whisper.
Not a voice. A twitch. A misplaced fear.
It doesn’t knock. It intrudes.
It doesn’t wait for an invitation—it is the host.

And it never gets easier with age.
People think you grow out of this.
No.
You grow into it.
You get better at faking.
You get better at lying.
You get better at saying,
“I’m fine”
with a noose around your ribcage.

It is biochemical.
It is bed-bound.
It is pushing away everyone who reaches for me,
like don’t touch me, I’m radioactive,
like you’ll burn if you get too close.

My brain whispers:
You’re broken.
And I believe it.
It says:
They can’t fix you.
And I build a religion on that truth.
I can’t see other perspectives because the lens is cracked.
I carry my past like a haunted house
that charges me rent to live inside my own head.

Welcome to the carnival.
Step right up!
Ride the panic coaster!
One second I’m on top of the world,
the next I’m six feet beneath it.
Guess the weight of my emotional baggage—
winner gets a lifetime of therapy bills and half a prescription.

This isn’t dramatic.
This isn’t a cry for attention.
It’s a cry for help.
For hope.
For something better than this.

I’ve read medication labels like they were ancient spells.
Like maybe this time, the magic will work.
Maybe this time I’ll teleport out of the darkness.
Maybe this time I won’t need to explain
that this isn’t weakness.
This is survival.
This is fight or flight,
but I’ve been flying for years and I’m out of fuel.

You want to call me a coward?

No.
Cowards don’t get out of bed when the world is a monster.
Cowards don’t dance with danger
without a harness, without a net, screaming into the void
and daring it to scream back.
Cowards don’t live every day
fighting a voice that says: end it.

I am not a coward.
I am a war zone.
I am still here.

That. That is courage.

The greatest lies you
Have ever believed
Are the ones you created;
Breathing life into them.

But they are all based
In your own deep, toxic
Insecurities, manifesting
Deep within your psyche.

You’re so desperate to seek
Approval from others, that
You’re happy to destroy those
Who have always loved you.

The limit has been reached.
You’ve run out of luck
And out of love. But you
Did this all to yourself.

Your relationship with truth
Ended because you and
Deception had an illicit affair.
Friends with no real benefits.

By Bob W Christian

Forgiveness

Have you forgiven those
Who hurt and abused you?
No, never! I hear you cry.
Then they still have control.

Some people will go their whole
Lives never forgiving or letting
Go of their pain; so wrapped up
In their hatred, vengeance, anger.

Causing physical and emotional
Damage to themselves, simply
‘Cause they think that to forgive is
A sign of weakness. I’m telling you

That’s not true. It takes strength,
Wisdom, and courage to choose
A better, enlightened path in life.
Achieving this is relatively simple.

Put yourself in their position.
If their pain, experiences, thoughts
Were yours, would you act any
Differently? I doubt it, if you’re honest.

Remember, ‘Hurt people hurt people’.
The parent who wasn’t there;
The ex who broke you. Free yourself.
Forgiveness begins by letting go.

By Bob W Christian

Love Letter

I wake up to you every morning;
Plant a kiss on your forehead,
Like a letter – a daily reminder
That reads: “I’ve loved you,
From the moment I first saw
Your beautiful smile.” The smile
That left me saying to a deity that
I didn’t quite believe in, that
You’d see… I would be someone
You can believe in forever – until you
Can no longer read my words.

By Bob W Christian

The suffering, cruelty and pain
You cause, again and again.
But the tables will finally turn
On you, three times three.

Shedding light on all your
Actions, while setting me free.
Light begins to fade away,
Darkness is coming through.

Torments you have caused
Tonight come back at you.
I can move forward now;
Karma always works it out.

(C)BobChristianpoetry

By Bob W Christian

On this night, darkness
Is covering the land.
Shadows are rolling out
A supernatural shroud.

Ghosts of memories past,
Wearing masks, playing,
Dancing like the candles
In your Jack o’Lanterns

Under this wet October
Moon, fires burn brightly.
Our skyclad rituals, to
Thank Mother Earth,

With offerings left for
Spirits of the long-since
Departed family and friends…
Loved ones now passed.

Lights guiding the way
Home, for one night of
Laughter and reminiscing,
Until we meet once more.

Blessed Samhain

(C)BobChristianpoetry

By Bob W Christian

People ask me why I read comic books…

It’s the only place
Superheroes exist.
In reality, no one’s
Totally invincible.
We fracture under
Pressure.

I was born human,
I have no super
Strength. Only an
Ability with my
Words to move
Mountains.

I can’t run so fast
That time moves
Backwards. Yet
The first time I held
My daughter, time
Stopped.

To her, I’m faster,
Stronger, than the
Characters found
Inside stories. So
I need to be her
Superhero.

(C)BobChristianpoetry

By Bob W Christian

I’m an alien, desperately
Trying to find somewhere,
That I can call home. A
Place where I belong,

I’m a global citizen, escaping
Across this vast distance.
Abandoned. Orphaned.
Scared and Alone,

Two histories, yet I’m
Abandoned by both.
Trying to find
Some kind of peace.

Misunderstood; feared
By most I meet; never
Truly belonging, but
I’ll always be longing

Homeless; my culture
Scattered among the
Heavens; lost to the
Harshest elements.

My story is a desperate
Warning to all, of tales
Never to be repeated.
Yet they will be.

You may call me refugee,
Alien. In my homeland
I am simply me. Human
Lost. Homeless. Tired.

(C)BobChristianpoetry

By Bob W Christian

A grandparent

The strong foundation
On which we can build
Our loving family home,
To give shelter to our
Future generations

It’s like a museum, where
Treasures – not silver
Or gold – but priceless
Memories and stories are
Safely held within.

The people who I knew
Loved me without ever
Having to say it aloud, are
Now watching over me
As I take my turn.

(C)BobChristianpoetry