“Trust not in labels, in boxes confined.” This poem is about a misdiagnosis, the doubt that followed, and the courage to trust your own truth when the experts get it wrong.

In colors vivid, a canvas bright, 

Frida's spirit dances, a fierce light. 

With strokes of sorrow, joy entwined, 

Her pain, a mirror, our hearts aligned. 

A heart adorned with thorns, yet bold, 

Through brokenness, a story unfolds. 

Each brush a whisper, each hue a sigh, 

In every line, the strength to defy. 

Resilience blooms in the garden of grief, 

Her wounds unmasked, a source of relief. 

From the ashes of struggle, beauty takes flight, 

In the depth of her darkness, she sparks our own light. 

Oh, how we resonate with her flame, 

In the mirror of pain, we find our name. 

Her laughter, a song, in the depths of despair, 

Reminds us that love is forever laid bare. 

With every creation, we stitch our own seams, 

Finding solace in art, in unraveling dreams. 

For in Frida’s journey, we gather our might, 

To dance with our shadows, to reach for the light. 

So here’s to the spirit that leads us to live, 

In the tapestry woven with all that we give. 

Through struggles, we flourish, like blossoms in rain, 

Inspired by Frida, we rise from our pain.

“Am I enough? What’s wrong with me?” This poem is about anxiety in the middle of love and connection: the words we swallow, and the strength that grows when we finally let ourselves be seen.

Some mornings, just getting out of bed is the whole battle. This poem names the heaviness of depression and trauma: the numbness, the invisible scars, the sunrise that feels like a mountain. it finds the small spark that refuses to go out.