7.1 C
London, UK
Friday, 13, December, 2019

Open the Can of Worms by Tracey Farrell

I want you to see me...work well with me, and open that can of worms. Not to watch you squirm but to help me see. That I am not rotten. That my ‘mental illness’ and my addictions. Are just a symptoms of trauma not forgotten.

Ward 11 by Margaret Raine

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.

Coffee Mourning by Anand Pattni

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.

Your Chemical Embrace by Anonymous

I keep digging, But just getting deeper, I keep climbing, But the mountain gets steeper, And I question myself, Every single day