Mental health support network for PWWP

Mental health illness support network for People working with people

A poem by the National Help Service!!

on November 16, 2012

 

Today a bird, tomorrow captured again.

Before I was alive, shiny brand new and sane.

While I let out all this hurt, that pours at the stitches and seams.

Somewhere inside, a candle still flickers and gleams.

I pray with all my aching heart, mind and soul, that I will be healthy again and I will regain control.

People misinterpret, don’t listen and forget.

But I don’t. I strive to help those who hurt and upset.

Because I know what it’s like to feel alone, sad and dead.

To carry a burden you feel no human could comprehend.

The piercing, burning feel of wandering eyes.

I wonder what people think as they say their hellos and goodbyes.

Please will someone see that I’m sick in the head and in pain.

I don’t want to have talk through it, like with doctors, counsellors and pyschiatrists again.

I think of those heroes from decades ago, warriors, idols and gladiators on show.

Spectacle, awe wonder and praise. Ah yes, those were the glorious beautiful days.

What happened to those who lost ourselves, inner strength and poise?

We lost the test that separated the supposed men from the boys.

A distinction, surely everyone at some time must bear.

Feeling naked, with only a disguise and fake smile to wear.

I want to be strong like those in the past.

Be an example to others, to prove I can last.

They’ll think, such a lovely girl she’s not unwanted, damaged or lost.

She’s an asset, not something that would inflict heavy cost.

We don’t want someone weak, broken, angry and sad.

We want confidence, strength, fixed, happy and glad.

But listen, my peers, teachers, friends and folk.

There are times when everyone starts to crumble and choke.

Sometimes we struggle, suffer and get ill.

Not always are we well, or able to take life’s happiest of pills.

We need constant love, affection, reassurance of worth.

Especially at times, when we contemplate the opposite of birth.

The answer we think, the end it is not.

The answer we think, the only one we have got.

To get out of the mess that exploded without given notice.

The one that created the very opposite of bliss.

So please help us, when we fall off life’s conveyor belt.

We need help, so we don’t evaporate or melt.

Melt into darkness, or get lost in wilderness, wind and rain.

So please help us, so we can start our lives and be free once again

 

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