Poetry

I have held the hands of broken souls whose lives disintegrated, I have stemmed the blood from self-inflicted wounds, paced miles with those on ‘constant obs’ – down endless corridors and countered suicidal arguments with gentlest persuasion.

I'm Lewis, a perfectly imperfect human, like you. Just wrote a poem I would love to share I thought of it in the bath...

I can’t believe I took so many Pills for mental strife, The doctors pushed them onto me Throughout my adult life. And never did one of those pills Make...

Croissant customers with busy faces and skinny latte voices, pourin over choices.. all the noise is darling and delightful – a welcome distraction from the frightful girl who’s sat, on the wrong side of that chair, pursed lips n’ a long downward glare.