by Cole McNamara / perilpoet
Stress is a clever ghost—
loud, but never solid.
It doesn’t live
in the physical world,
only in the mind.
So what do you do?
Slip the chains
of illusion.
Choose what feels real
in your body.
Choose truth.
Seek clarity.
Seek understanding.
Call back
your inner child.
Let them lead you
home
to your intuition.
If you like this piece, you might also enjoy:
- Sixth Street Park — a Hearth piece about childhood wonder, quiet magic, and the little rituals that made us who we are.
- Culdesac Crew — a Hearth poem about pinecone wars, dumpster-diving, all-night Pokémon marathons, and the bittersweet truth about our childhood crew.
-
To: The Star Pretending to Be a Lamp — a Whimsy poem written as an official memo from the Department of Whimsy, reminding you your spark was never lost, only buried under “be practical.”
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