Saturday, 7 May 2011

Hair Of Silver, Heart Of Gold

Introduction: Alzheimer's is a horrible, horrible illness. The following is devoted to the grandfather of a true friend.

Reminds me a bit of my favourite TV show Grey's Anatomy...
You'll see what I mean if you watch it, I HIGHLY recommend it. HIGHLY.

Enjoy! {Comments & followers welcome as always}

[The names have been changed to protect the identity of those mentioned]


Dear Mr. Knight , I wish you well,
I'm sure you don't have that old people smell.
Though I'm a complete and utter stranger to you,
This little message is the least I can do.

You created a spring for your daughter to flow
And her daughter too has now spouted her own,
But awash in her tides are streaks of pain,
She needs an umbrella to trudge through the rain.

You are her umbrella, her family, her blood
Coursing through her veins, instilled with love.
She will rise from the river where she once sank,
For that, Albert, she has you to thank.

We've never met, Albert, I regret to say
And from what I hear it might be too late.
But from your descendants, the stars to your sun,
I can perceive that you are the one

Who would use their eyes to flash a smile
With an amiable aura all the while.
Like a softly-spoken Morgan Freeman,
I'm sure you're the grandfather of Amy's dreams and

I'm sorry, so sorry, that illness nested
In your head, and spread, a downright pestilence
For a good, honest family, already shook,
Before you leave, Albert, give Amy one final look

That says: Your flesh, by my love, I've always been sunning,
If I was racing for you I would never stop running,
You and your mother bring tears to my eyes
As you've made me so proud. I love you. Goodbye.

But Albert, I'm afraid you are mistaken -
In years, Callie & Amy will awaken,
Among cloisters of cloud, they'll see your face
And join you in a warm embrace.


- I used the surname Knight as Amy's favourite character in Grey's Anatomy is George O'Malley, portrayed by T.R. Knight.

I googled 'hug' and came across a gold mine of cute pics: ENJOY

Go on, laugh :D

This is the exact breed of dog I am getting - his name will be Paddy and I'm getting him as soon as I get my ass out of hospital :)

Anyway enough of the pics, I'm getting carried away, be sure to comment if you like and followers are welcome - the more the merrier.

Thanks for reading x

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Boy In A Box

Introduction: Sorry I haven't been terribly frequent lately but I will keep to my promise of 3 posts a week.  I have one scheduled for Friday and Sunday so look out for them! This poem is about me being stuck in hospital, and basically I found these awesome pictures of box people and just had to write a poem about them. One of the reasons I've been less frequent with my posts is that I've returned to writing my book (or thinking about it) and Yumi is going to draw the cover. Very excited except I'm also very busy with school (OMG) and therapy - I've reached a fairly crucial point in my recovery and am working towards going on holiday in the summer. Coming up on the blog I have a Royal-themed poem and a wedding-themed short story in honour of the Royal Wedding just gone (I soooo want to be a prince). Also on the way is the final two installments of 5 Friends - No I have not forgotten about Mikli & Sage. And finally, a poem called Sands of Mine an another about a dear friend of mine's ill grandfather. Enjoy and please please please comment :) GOOD NIGHT WORLD.

A big shout-out to Batty Matty, one of the first people to comment on the blog (which really makes me feel good). Good luck to Ben, her 17-year-old son and be sure to check out her blog, its on my blog-roll on the right, it's called Anorexia Boy etc. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Read away....


You're afraid
Of the gaps in the tunnel you want to slip between,
The light in the tunnel you leave unseen.
I know the feeling, I know what it means.
You are not alone.

A sigh of relief
For you don't lie in a ditch by a dusty track,
Battered and bruised, creviced and cracked.
Cloaked, you return, no exterior scratch,
The damage is within.

Like always
But don't be afraid to shed tears, nor frown,
Planets to your sun, we are always around.
Grab our hands when you tumble down.
Deep down you don't want to let go.

Hold on.
In the future
The noise will numb, the pain will lessen.
When your angel, by your demon, is no longer threatened.
You've pulled through the shit but there's more where that came from.
Your engine keeps running regardless.

The box
Where you lay
Each day,
Will break
Make no mistake.
You can't slash through its sides before you're prepared.
Conserve you're strength, be patient.
You'll shatter its seal, into open air,
"One day," says your fellow patient.

Keep strong, this road's long.
We trudge together.
As I say these days,
Won't last forever.

- no notes for this one, it's pretty straightforward and there is no deep, deep meaning intended.



Saturday, 30 April 2011


SORRY, I know I promised a royal-themed poem today but I was given leave from the hospital today so was quite busy spending time at home with the fam :) I will get around to writing that ASAP. Anyway...

Introduction: Just a little'un today to keep the ball rolling. It quite represents my mood - if a friend wants to talk to me today I'd feel like a short, sharp conversation, not a long, winding rant or tear-a-thon... Enjoy and follow my blog or on twitter to get regular updates if you'd like :) it really means a lot to me. I try to keep regular content up on the blog (at least 3 times a week). That may not sound like a lot but considering this isn't just a diary of my life, it's also a creative outlet, it's a little more time-consuming.

Happy World
(And there's another picture of Yumi's to open the poem - amazing, isn't it? She's an abundance of talent.)


Be it over the hill, or far away,
End my pain, don't
You know? Please, I'm on my knees.
One way to soar, galore.
No. I won't. I'd rather be ground into

Friday, 29 April 2011

Star Spangled Spirits


Introduction: Teehee, seeing as today is the Royal Wedding and is all about Britain, I've decided to go against the tide and write a poem about America :) Don't worry, tomorrow's poem has a royal theme (I wouldn't normally upload poems two days in a row but I haven't put one up since Monday so you get an extra dose). I also have a wedding-themed short story SHOCK HORROR NOT A POEM that I might enter into a competition if I find one. If any of you have opinions on me writing a short story, or know of have any competitions, or have any feedback whatsoever, COMMENT AWAY :) !!!
Happy reading and enjoy this historical day - I'm not British in any way, shape or form but I'm in London and the nurses are in a good mood because of it so what the hell, I'm into it now!


She's a goddess, she is, with a bloody heart that oozes into the rich honey of a thousand hornets. It sinks into quicksand horizons, heavy with the stones of a hard day's shine. But be patient, my friend, there is time left on the amber clockface. Grand Central Station.

Arches of omniscient orange support a streak of molten gold. It trickles between two hummock heads, a raindrop on a window pane. The Golden Gate Bridge.

Magenta dreams dyed in heaven's hair, catch my eye, which widen, stare. The colours speak out to me, resplendent scars running deep, they seep through the onion layers of the eve. Spilling sideways, the haze is a sliding door, shutting away the nightmares with an angel standing sentry, light of life in hand. Statue of Liberty.

God is a scientist - his chromatography a wild success, nonetheless, the best he can do is paint the sky that was blue, the harsh halt of grey cliff face left untarnished by his beauty. Hoover Dam.

I watch as a cosmic treasure is smashed into smears of sapphire, ruby, rose quartz. From heights stratospheric, the remnants of sun's rays, still sizzling with daytime, fall, fall, fall. Until all rays catch a glimpse of their father sinking, drinking up all its time left on our Earth, and fan into a sulphuric, citrus swipe of sky, crying out to me in Cupid's tongue. The Liberty Bell.

Whispered wisps of azure peep through the Venetian blinds of the vivid vortex, frightened fragments of the dying day, powerless as their dear uncle falls to its knees. I squint my eyes into an awkward contortion - sure enough, there's a face, although out of proportion. A lilac arch of eye, a bent, blue nose, fuchsia coil of lip, flesh tinted with rose, a single, smouldering pupil blazing fiery red, into a birthmark of orange it slowly bled. Mount Rushmore.

The final drops of brilliant red, the wound dries up, the goddess bids farewell. An indigo iris begins to bloom in the ceiling of sky, chasing away the day with its blackthorn vines. Talons of tiger's eye claw at the chalkboard of Jupiter's navy cloak, but in vain, the pain of dusk is upon us. With a swallow, a choke, the day that once spoke becomes dumb, propelled into a teary-eyed tear in the landscape's papyrus scroll. The Grand Canyon.

Although the curtain is closing on our theatre once again, there are words left unsaid on our script left unread. The ladybird wallpaper above peels its final strips, the sand between our toes shifts, sifts, plummets into Earth's hourglass, tick, tock, quick, knock on night's door, cross the threshold. I wish 
could make me feel like a flaring Catherine wheel... Behold the palm trees, old friends by our sides, their leaves outstretched as welcome hands. A paradise poured from angel amphoras ripples before us, a windswept flag of nautical nations. Our fingers interlock, there is me, there is you, our hearts are docked in Malibu. Although we've seen the setting sun, I promise our lives have just begun.

Monday, 25 April 2011

Road Less Travelled

Hope you all had a...

This was the cover of a card I got for Easter (as you can imagine, chocolate is a strict no-no)


Introduction: Yesterday I got my first leave from the hospital in yonks and so me and my family went out to the country for a picnic and a long country walk. And (drumroll please) all the photos for this poem were taken by me in the countryside except for the clouds one :) The following poem is about the myriad of mental illnesses out there and I hope to offer you all a little hope. I'm trying to be optimistic at the moment so...

:) :) ENJOY :) :)


Continue ahead, Christ's sat-nav said,
No veering left nor right.
Diverting your route as uncommon as
Fork of fortune's bent, grey tines.

Life's flock flies as a unit,
A few straggler's left behind.
With their bird song hoarse, they wander off course
Into the back roads of mind.

Each bypass is its own,
Each track has its own traits,
The cement between the paving stones
Is set in love and hate.

My road is fenced by concrete
And sneers of spiked barbed wire.
A cinder's footsteps on my tail,
There's no turning back, you liar.

But I put up my walls
Not to keep others out,
But to see who cares and loves enough
To tear my tall walls down.

I scrawl my angel's message
With dove-feathered quill.
It catches in a passing wind,
Read my letter, take your pill:

Nails don't always fit their fingers,
Voices sometimes hate their singers,
For what they've done, where they bring them -
Into trauma's tides.

You drop your halo, you fall to your knees,
With a shiver, you beg the heavens, please,
Restore my courage, bring back these
Pieces that make me whole.

Your deepest sorrows need not be drowned.
Oh sweetest poison that you found
Will clench its fists, crudely pound
Your sparks into the earth. 

There are things in life you truly love
More than snorted snow or the heavens above.
His wick ignited by ripples of
A pond left punctured by stones.

Children of men, wet leeches latch
Onto tender, ivory skull.
They absorb the glow from behind their eyes
And beat it to a pulp.

Humans breathe, humans sleep,
In your vortex, you live warped ways.
One who cannot meet her own demands,
A gremlin-groped girl, did say:

Don't let people spoil your day,
By what they do or what they say,
It does not matter anyway,
They are only passing clouds.


- The image of roads, tracks, bypasses etc. is an extension of the idea of getting back on track from the poem dedicated to my sister 'Deirfiúr'.

- The juxtaposition of concrete and barbed wire imagery with the rural photos represents my confusion and the path I must take between my illness and recovery (from the confined barbed wire to the free countryside).

- If any of you out there are into nature (personally I'm not) then that white flower above is a Narcissus and is called Pheasant-Eye, or so said a passer-by.

- Each verse of the letter in this poem refers to a different mental issue and they follow in this order

1. Child Abuse
2. Anxiety
3. Alcohol Addiction
4. Drug Addiction
5. Depression
6. Anorexia
7. Well... The final verse was actually a little message given to Yumi by her dad, but it is relevant for all of us. We've all just got to roll with the punches and live in the moment.

Enough of the heavy stuff, here's a little humour for your Bank Holiday Monday


I took a snap of this in Asquith's Teddy Bear Shop in Henley. I recommend a visit, it's the cutest shop you'll ever visit :3

Teehee. If you like animal humour, you HAVE to watch BBC's Walk On The Wild Side, it's bloody hilarious XD

It looks like summer is finally on the way which is symbolic of many things for me (literally light at the end of the tunnel if you'll excuse the cliché). Speaking of seasons beginning, give this song a listen, utterly beautiful: Elephant Gun by Beirut

Quit your jibber-jabber, I hear you say.

Signing off and all the best,
LL x

P.S. I always love comments, so please, please, please, any feedback at all is welcome.


Saturday, 23 April 2011


Introduction: I was feeling vulnerable and was losing faith in the recovery process today and this is expressed through this brief, simplistic poem, inspired by a piece of artwork from the amazingly talented Yumi :) I know it's short but still, I hope you enjoy! There will be no Notes for this poem as a) I want to leave it open to interpretation b) there's not much to interpret anyway and c) well, I'm tired and... hahaha just kidding!

(If you're new to the blog, Yumi, Water, Sage and Mikli are friends of mine who I've assigned codenames so we can sound cool when we walkie-talkie each other... again joking, it's so they stay anonymous.)


This poem
Is going to you.

First class,
I asked
The postman to,

Send fragments of faith
In a parcel your way.
By God, little one, you deserve it.

Can you believe Yumi drew that! I thought she'd printed it off of the internet. Her talents never cease to amaze me...


Thursday, 21 April 2011

Snakes & Adders

Introduction: A friend of mine was having a difficult time a few weeks ago as they were stuck in the hospital when I was on leave and well, when life keeps getting you down, life is like a game of snakes & adders (haha! Pun!) I'm giving smaller introductions now because I feel it's better to leave it open to interpretation so I'm not shoving the s summary in your face before you've even read a book... Enjoy!


The board game.
Is it a race to the finish from the start?
From square to square to square I have to heave my heavy heart.
How I wish to skip a dozen places, to fly on fortune's dart?
But my eager eyes fail to glimpse a bullseye.

The dice.
The saboteur strikes before the game's even begun,
He weighs my dice on sunshine's side, I'm forever rolling ones,
A flashback of my purest days when I could have maybe won.
The memories slip through cracks although I try.

The counters.
In our honeypot of hues, we're each to our own
But just ants on this board, we haven't grown.
Did the farmer fall ill before our seeds were sown?
If we were settled in soil, we'd flourish.

The snakes.
Forked tongues, red-hot, they singe my skin.
No ladders, the adders, their next of kin,
Launch us spiraling down, circling drains of sinks.
We are mortal, tender, malnourished.

The players.
Their numbers vary, two to six.
My broken bones from stones and sticks
They pieced back together, do jigsaws fit?
In long games, the players deplete.

The manual.
The instructions melt into coffee stains.
The pain of my past, it surfaced again.
No words tell me how though the beast will be slain
Before it knocks me off my feet.

The box.
The dice is snatched, snakes bare their fangs.
A shower rail, a banshee hangs.
In my cherub's ears, the church bells rang.
The lid slid firmly shut.


- First of all, THIS IS MY LEAST FAVOURITE POEM TO DATE but Yumi disagrees with me...

- Well, all I'm going to say is: 

The board game is life in general.
The dice is the chances we have to take in life.
The counters are sufferers of eating disorders.
The snakes are eating disorders.
The players are carers for sufferers.
The manual is fate.
The box shutting before the game is finished is my life ending before I've fully recovered from my illness.

The line about sticks and stones came to me when S&M by Rihanna was on he radio here at a mealtime... God, Capital FM is turning my brain to mush.

The concept of this poem came to me when I was wearing a pair of Snakes & Ladders Topman socks. They're a bit loud but I like them.

Thanks for reading :) x

Sunday, 17 April 2011


Introduction: A week ago today, I did something awful and I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself for hurting my family that badly, especially my sister who has A levels this summer and cannot take any more stress from me. I called her up and read this out to her on Tuesday. I hope she accepts my apology...

Comment if you like :)


After the suffering of this past year,
When from the roots, sprouted fears,
Through all the hurt, the prices we've paid,
I promise our lives will blossom again.
You're too good a sister, too good a friend,
For someone like me to bring your life to an end.
You have your own path, keep treading you way.
There is one word I want to say:
I made the bulbs dim and fade
In our family's fairy lights that Mum & Dad made.
When my bulb short-circuited, blew a fuse,
You stayed by my side, it's you I can't lose.
It'd be so easy for you to take off into bliss.
My dreary, grey heart I doubt you would miss.
But along with your burden, you carry another:
A love, undying, for your baby brother.
You stay onboard when my ship is sinking.
No matter what I say, I am always thinking -
What did I do to deserve this care,
This support, this friendship, anytime, anywhere?
I admire your strength, courage, thick-skin.
You're a candle that never goes out in the wind.
Even when my chains drag you down too,
You pick yourself up, push on through.
For you've so much to live for, your horizons wide,
Your friends, your studies, the ball's on your side.
Or your court, I should say, one more mistake,
But I'll forever regret the one I made
on Sunday night. Inexcusable, wrong.
Your heart I scarred, but you have hurt all along.
Since the day I abandoned you, turned my back,
Disappeared off reality's track.
Could I be more
The answer is no.
My apology's a teardrop, so sincere, so
Great it will pour into a watery rug,
Wrap around you and give you a hug.
That my illness rammed between
Holidays, good times we could have seen.
I'm the ink blot on our white, blank page,
You've no idea how furious, enraged
I am with myself for hurting you,
Mum, Dad, Alexandra too.
That ends now, it's the train's final stop,
I will climb my Everest, reach the top -
For you, for me, for everyone
Who's loved and supported me since day one.
My troubles have jarred your voice out of key
But sing loud and proud, don't let me
Shadow your future that shines so bright,
Make you need to be rocked to sleep every night.
I want your soul to flourish, last,
I don't want your clock to run slow or fast.
I want you to function, to live life, to be,
But a smog to your sun, here it is again, me.
I'd say, "Go with the wind," wherever, whenever,
I'd allowed you to run, I'd severe your tether.
But still you would sit on the grass, rest awhile,
Turn your face to mine and give me a smile.
For that I'll be grateful forever, don't think
I'll ignore your love and continue to sink.
I'll get back on the track, although I've sinned.
Hold my hand, together we'll be gone with the wind.

The title is Irish for Sister.

Thursday, 14 April 2011


Introduction: Today in Art Therapy the theme was 'Lifeline' and for once (OMG) I stuck exactly to the theme! Lately I've been having some difficult thoughts/ideas lately so I'm trying to pour them into poetry rather than being wayward enough to act on them. So, to anyone I know out there, for all our sakes, I would never do the following. This poem actually brings a tear to my eyes, and that's saying something as I'm usually inured to the darkness of my poems. I'll write a more upbeat poem next for sure, as we all need some positivity in our lives. Anyway, comment away (OMG again, I rhyme accidentally, poetry runs in my blood hahaha). The following is a nightmare of mine... But it will never NEVER become reality.


Sink, sink, into the drink, is what the devil makes me think

Bathed in hate, my heavy plate
too much for me to cope.
Turn off the taps, my neck relax,
into the depths I slope.

Her rope uncoils from shores unspoiled.
She throws it out to sea.
I glimpse it through the green and blue,
ignore her desperate pleas.

Sink, sink, into the drink, is what the devil makes me think

Giver of life, a loyal wife,
mother of greater good.
I flounder, flail, head full of hail,
I don't listen although I should.

I sigh, I breathe, with angel's ease,
my lungs swell up with water.
My rusted spokes, I writhe, I choke.
No more sons, no more daughters.

Sink, sink, into the drink, is what the devil makes me think

The woman rests, she now accepts.
One tear runs down her cheek.
She would howl, she would weep, plunge into the deep.
She grasped my hand, so white, so weak.

The sirens blare. Child, do not fear.
Just slip into a dream.
A nightmare comes, it grips my lungs.
I do not wish to be.

Sink, sink, into the drink, is what the devil made me think

Lifeline... Flatline...

Monday, 11 April 2011

Mind That Child!

Introduction: I was driving home from hospital on leave when I saw an ice cream van... I liked the words on the back, they related to me. Themes in this poem include vulnerability and regret. Here goes...


A tapenade of tarmac furls out before my feet, feel the concrete, cold to toes. Who knows, maybe the fallen children of trees can feel it too: Their ripe, old, majestic golds, earthy oranges, fiery reds.
Left on the sidewalk, plaguing the pavements, the scattered ashes of a leafy life-form, dormant. For now. A gust with teeth, a sword unsheathed, jack-knifes into the balmy hues - the horn heralding the coming of autumn.

A timeless tinkle, a wink from my past, when my two petite feet could not scurry too fast. The hardest iron of ironies... 
Charon is seated behind a brittle screen, navigating the oceans of a street uncleaned. Sailing onwards, beating through the wind. I've sinned. Don't take me mistakenly. You are never too grown to grovel, but afore I sink to knees, forced by mind's breeze, my eyes gibe.

To a mascot, powder-pink whirlpool nested in a lone cone. Chiming louder, haven't found her.
The girl.
She'll make it make sense, bring me back to whence I came from: The stencil of society. With piety, step one, step two, is what I do, step three, it's me, it's where I be. 

Pavements part like the Red Sea, at deft swipe of hand, to the borders they lean. Between, is me - I don't pick sides. Open wide my arms, my wingspan feather-fingered. Take me to the place where angels linger.

For that is what the weak seek.

My fate on a plate, I've duly scraped. Time to end where I begun, the clock strikes one. But as the white ship nears, bow slicing warring wake. For my own sake I realize. With my own eyes, I see wheeled heels, scratched paint on metal, an engine reels, a silent movie's tape, its story seeps into dreamless sleeps of filmographers. 

No ferry of the dead crosses River Styx. Fix my dysfunctional preconceptions - A human man with human hands and human breath.
His name is Seth.
Twin silver chevrons = an ornamental nose, the purring rose. "Take me," I said. I've bled for too long. Let my memories spurt from red poppies blooming from skull. Let them stream into gutters, a puddle of past gone by. Do I care?

No. Why? Sigh.

The mass of motor rolls to a stop, brakes they screech, the doors unlock. A hand lined with age, marked with life, come in contact with yesteryear's knife. He opens palm, I read the psalm, a wrinkled epitaph etched with harm. His fingers splay, arms cradle, take me away. He lays me to rest in the boot of his van, awake, eyes wide. The angelic-white hearse carried me to the other side...

Mind me.


- This poem is probably my hardest to figure out yet, so read it a few times if you're confused. Just to clear up, the ending is ambiguous, the boy could have died or lived, depends how you interpret it :)

On a lighter note, check out 'Shake Your Chin'.
And if your a male sufferer of an ED, find help and support on Men Get Eating Disorders Too

Saturday, 9 April 2011


Introduction: This poem is about a little boy. He's out there somewhere in the real world but this is my re-imagining of his tale. His name was...


I stare 
into your tortoiseshell eyes like feline's fur,
I run my fingers through your hair
like sand dunes on that same beach where
Mummy and Daddy first had a 'disagreement'.
I was scared.
You held my hand, said that life's not fair,
said that Daddy's angry, but not to care,
he charged at Mummy, his knuckles bare,
Things were wrong but I couldn't see it.

I counted
the cars in the driveway, Mummy's green,
Daddy's black van nowhere to be seen.
My eyes were red in the wing-mirror,
behind me, you stand with an outstretched hand.
A fountain
in a park, watching water glide.
Your hushed whisper, your arms open
wide, you cocoon me, but I glance to one side.
Daddy's here - my screams fall away, just sand.

I recall
the morning, I poured my Rice Krispies,
dressed myself, brushed my teeth all too quickly.
I was a good girl but Daddy found me,
he hit me, said that to him I'll always be dead.
That's not all.
When he'd finished with me, left my bones in my bed -
Said that he'd find you instead.
My head turned in a whirlwind has Mummy
left? "I'm afraid too, Mummy," I said.

I tip-toed downstairs like you told me to,
If he ever laid his hands on you,
Put my hand on the doorknob but I couldn't do
it. No, I'll never leave you to die.
By grunts and splashing I was led
to the kitchen, why is the tap-water red?
With his iron ape's arms he held your head
underwater. No need to ask why.

I would
have picked up the phone by its neck
and called someone but none were left.
I'm a coward, I don't want his breath
all over my own skin.
A wooden
cupboard under the stairway,
he grasped your throat, blocked your airway.
As he shut the door, looked at me as if to say:
You're next and you know it.

A shriek.
Then silence, still as glass.
You don't emerge but Daddy does.
Please don't hurt me, don't be rough,
Just be quick, get the gun.
I'm weak.
I curl in a ball and cover my eyes,
If I can't see him, he'll get a surprise
when he can't see me. I hear a deep sigh,
Through spread fingers, I seem him run.

The longest day
has passed when I rise on unsteady feet.
Uncertain of what sight I'll meet.
I approach the cupboard, take a peek.
Your eyes stare but they don't see me.
I kneel at your side, put an ear to your chest.
Take life with a pinch of lemon zest
you'd say to me, you always knew best.
Sleep easy, dear brother, sleep easy.

How I wish I could save you,
I laid one lily on your grave to
Make you feel the same to
The soil in our garden.

Don't go.


- This poem has no particular significance to me personally, I have just come across many interesting books about child abuse on my unit such as 'Child C' by Christopher Spry and 'Don't tell Mummy' by Toni Maguire. Awfully sad and disturbing but all the same fascinating and informative reads if you've never checked them out. Be warned: Those books are not for young eyes.

Thanks and sorry my poems are darker at the moment, I'm going through a rough patch at the moment and it is being reflected in my poetry as my feelings always are.

I hoped you liked this poem, it's a bit different :)

Comments welcome, keep reading! x