moving on

The Cost of Keeping Peace

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

The lines were drawn in quiet ink,
A map of “yes” and “stay,”
I feared the bridge would surely sink
If I turned the other way.
I held my breath to keep the peace,
A ghost within the room,
Fearing that my own release
Would seal a friendship’s doom.

I thought the cost of being me
Was more than they would pay,
That if I spoke, they’d turn and flee
And leave me in the gray.
But then the weight began to gall,
The “jokes” that left a sting,
The way they made me feel so small
While I gave everything.

So I stood up, a sudden flame,
And watched the masks descend,
I finally spoke my truth, my name,
And waited for the end.
They met my strength with cold disdain,
With anger and with slight,
They saw my joy as their own pain
And walked into the night.

And in the silence left behind,
The truth began to bloom:
The friends I was so scared to find
Were never in that room.
For if a boundary breaks a bond,
The bond was but a thread;
Of people who are truly fond,
There’s nothing left to dread.

If standing up meant losing them,
I lost a heavy chain,
A false and hollow stratagem
That only offered pain.
The ones who leave when you grow tall
Were never yours to keep;
It’s better that the shadows fall
So you can finally leap.

More works by Nancy Ann Creed

MAEVE https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd
MATTHEW https://books2read.com/u/bzNZYj
JUSTIN https://books2read.com/u/mBKzLZ
MAURELLE https://books2read.com/u/bzN19D
ANNBELLE https://books2read.com/u/bWqEkx
Carillon https://books2read.com/u/38anZV


The Tapestry of Poison

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment
person holding red heart shaped ornament
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The Tapestry of Poison


The tapestry of life has threads of gloom,
Where toxic darkness drains the spirit’s bloom.
Some things in life are toxic, subtly sly,
Environments that stifle, habits that deny
Our health, or institutions built on lies—
The silent poisons that before us rise.

As harmful are the ties that bring us pain,
Some people in life who are toxic, they remain
Emotional vampires, constant critics cold,
Passive aggressors, stories to be told
Of manipulation, thriving on the storm,
Suffocating potential, leaving us worn.

Beyond the things and people we may face,
Some activities are toxic in this space.
The compulsions offering distraction’s grace,
But long-term regret we cannot erase:
The relentless pursuit, the endless scroll,
The cycles that entrap and take their toll.

So why do we still use these things we know?
Is it comfort, fear, or letting inertia grow?
And why do we still talk to these people too?
Is it guilt, obligation, hope that’s often through?
Why on the altar of connection’s name,
Do we sacrifice our peace to feed their flame?

If the outcome’s negative, why do we stay?
Why do we still do these activities every day?
The self-sabotage, the deeply set-in need,
Why do we torment ourselves by doing the same things repeatedly indeed?
A closed, agonizing loop of self-inflicted harm,
Where inertia holds us in its harmful arm.

But the moment of reckoning demands its due,
A crystallizing truth, unflinching, strong, and new:
Enough! I am done! a line across the sand,
The absolute refusal, a sovereign command.
To the source of the poison, the message is clear,
Take your toxicity and your self-righteous attitude and leave me here.

Leave me be, so I can move on and find my peace,
Grant me the space for wounds to heal and cease.
Leave me be and stop pretending you ever cared,
The charade of concern, its hollow core laid bare.
Leave me be and let me live my life as it should be,
Unburdened by your shadow, finally free.

My future is my own, not for your design,
Leave me be and stop pretending that you ever cared is the final sign.
Severing the chains of a love that was a lie,
Walking into freedom beneath a clear, blue sky.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

When is it enough?

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment
black woman showing palm in light room
Photo by Monstera Production on Pexels.com

When is it Enough?

How long must the open hand remain,
When the other will not meet its strain?
The core dilemma of the human tie,
A painful question of loyalty,
Endurance, and how much self-worth you’ll spend,
To reach a silence that will never end.

How long does the title of “friend” hold true?
When shared history’s debt is overdue,
And the present moment is marked by cold harm,
Or the chilling indifference of a broken charm?
When does the label become a hollow sound,
A testament to what was, not what is found?

Is the sacred practice of prayer still right,
For a soul unconcerned with your day or night?
Does intercession become a painful toll,
A thankless rite for a disregarding soul?
The spirit’s commitment is tested and frayed,
By the walls of betrayal that have been laid.

When they tarnish your name with calculated lies,
How long do you absorb the pain behind your eyes?
When they won’t speak, a barrier high and stout,
How long do you knock before you turn about?
When they treat your existence as insignificant air,
How much can your spirit’s dignity bear?

The waiting is a sacrifice you choose to make,
A pause of your own joy for a lost past’s sake.
But waiting is a cost that drains the will,
A stalling on the path that you must fulfill.
The battle shifts from effort out to inward plea:
Do you still pray? Or is detachment the key?

Is it wrong to move on, to finally not care?
When self-preservation demands a boundary there,
Does moving on become a vital act of grace,
To win back your self-respect in this bitter space?
The heart refuses to comply, that is the pain,
To stop caring is loss, a required emotional wane.

Why does the guilt of leaving cling so tight?
A fear of failing the endless-giving rite.
The mandate to be patient, to forever yield,
While your own peace lies ravaged on the field.
Yet, being “the better person” has a true cost,
It means protecting dignity before all is lost.

When is it enough? When will it ever cease?
The answer is internal, the reclaiming of peace.
Enough is when the cost of staying makes you bleed,
When waiting becomes self-destruction’s silent deed.
Enough is when your own well-being takes the lead,
And moving on is liberation—a necessary creed.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

I am Moving on

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

Photo by Krzysztof Maksimiuk on Unsplash

I am Moving on

I’ve given up on you,
I’ve written you off.
I’ve tried to be patient,
But I’ve had enough.

You’ve broken my heart too many times,
You’ve lied to me too many times.
I can’t keep giving you chances,
I can’t keep letting you hurt me.

So goodbye,
I’m letting you go.
I’m not going to waste any more of my time on you,
I’m not going to let you hurt me anymore.

I’m moving on,
I’m finding someone who will treat me right,
Someone who will love me and respect me.

You’re not worth my time,
You’re not worth my tears.
I’m done with you,
I’m moving on.

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/nancyanncreed

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Time to Move on

/ / 3 Comments
monochrome photo of couple holding hands
Photo by Min An on Pexels.com
I hang on longer than most. 
My hands will bleed, blisters will form.
Scraps and cuts do not bother me.
But once I am done, I will not go back.

My skin is torn, there is blood on my shirt.
My grip is tight, it strains my arms.
I call out for help, as the grip loosens.
But once I am done,  I will not return.

It might take several times, it might take years. 
The scars will heal, the blisters fade, but the memory lives on.
 I hold on again, but I do not stay long. 
But once I am done, there is not going back,

I hung on longer than you did.
My hands bleed and the blisters broke, 
But once that branch breaks, I am done.

You can only hang on to people for so long.
Before you lose your grip. 
You look at your hands and remember how pretty they were,
Before the blood, scars and blisters.
You remember how happy you were once, 
And you know it is time to move on.

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