One thing my family and many others hated about me when I was younger was not that I loved art and wanted to draw, but more or less how unorganised I was; I would throw paper on the floor, practically grab any paper I could find and claim it as my own and it got to a point my family hid paper from me, but it was hilarious because I would always find it.

When you start off with your talents as a child, it’s quite beautiful how they can comfort you. I was very sheltered, not one for talking but I loved drawing for myself and others who would ask. Art always gave me a sense of comfort, it almost felt like days I wouldn’t have anyone around me, I would not be bothered because... I had art.

I also mentioned I loved writing on it, when young I was often given assignments from the school to write in a theme or re-write previous literature, it was insane the types of things I could do as a child regarding stories. I suppose I always had a love for writing, I just never really realised it was there, I just did it.
This poem’s form was Triolet, this quite similar to Limerick that I used in Music Notes for its repetition, but I do think the simplicity of it, does still add to that childish nature I had as a kid.

When I was young, I was very slow as described from my tutors. I didn’t pick up on things as fast as other kids and sometimes I felt bad about that, but I learned to just accept that sometimes, I take a bit of time.

But, there was one thing I wish I did understand before I was 6 years old. When I was 6 I was taken advantage of, not majorly, but I was still taken advantage of, when I thought it would end, I sadly stumbled into another situation where another completely different individual did the same. I found it tough to talk about to my close family, because I shut them off quickly after that.

It took me 10 years to talk about what had happened to me with them and others. I was afraid, sheltered and admittedly began outcasting myself because I was manipulated to believe it was something ‘normal’ when it wasn’t.

When I had finally confessed to my family, my Mother stood at my side through it all and I was grateful to have a woman like her in my life.

I am quite open with what had happened to me solely due to all the years I was not ‘open’. So I promised myself I would work on getting better and to this day, I’ve been getting better. If anything, saying it, does get it off your chest and I think telling someone was mostly the best part for me in the recovery process.

I learned about other’s situations inside and outside of my family and I’ve come to learn and love each and everyone of them for their stories, bravey and honestly, it just melts my heart how we can just see strangers on the street walking past us with happy expressions and we would not know they’ve been through hell.

The reason for the name ‘Mr. Man’ is because it did genuinely take me years to adapt into allowing males to actually go near me, be alone with me and sometimes even just touch me due to the situations I had been through. The name is simply a nod to how most of my harrassers were male and when a genuinely sweet man comes along wanting the best for me, it becomes a pain to have to explain to them why I might not be a 100% comfortable with being alone with them.

This has, however, improved, I now can be alone with certain male individuals and feel safe, this is most likely the biggest step in my recovery since telling someone. I am very happy to have all my friends who support me along the way.

I think the thing that hurts is how I have friends who are male, who do want the best for me and sometimes when getting to know me, they misinterpretate my discomfort as something of their wrongdoing when in reality it never was their fault; It was just a few bad people in the pool of good and they sadly reached to me first.

So this poem does have a quite ‘Deer in the Headlights’ vibe towards it for how some people when they are in vulnerable positions just simply freeze or are lost in confusion to know what is really happening.

I also try to tell my story as much as I can regarding my childhood, because I hope it inspires other young people to tell others their stories of child related issues with either mental health or people being creeps on them. People don’t realise at times how damaging it really can be on someone’s life – but it’s never too late to change those negative feelings, I know so many people who have changed their lives for the better, even after bad people stumble into them.

Never cut yourself short, you are always deserving of any kind of love.

This was inspired by Ballade forms of poetry. It was interesting to try something like this with a distorting feeling towards it, so I do think I worked my way a little outside of the structure for the last paragraph as I felt it was suitable.

When I was young, I used to love having my hair in a ponytail; and it hasn’t changed until this day! When growing up, I would often be in the sun, having fun in the garden of my Grandmother’s with my cousin Rosie and our friend who I shall keep unnammed, who we stated was a cousin as well, just because she felt like family.

We were very innocent, wonderful and happy as could be! After all, we were kids, yet it always melted my heart how even though we were as different as can be, we all still loved each other.

We loved pretending, imagining, singing, dancing and often even hurting each other on purpose by placing a seesaw on the top of a hill and waiting for the first one of us to fall off of it! It was hilarious how foolish we were, devious at best.

We were just a bunch of fun-loving kids and I wanted to show our simplistic nature through being inspired by Limerick poetry. It seemed fun, silly and definitely a delight to try!

As obvious as it can be, ‘Pray for Her Girl’ is about my birth. My Father was told to leave at night, while my Mother was in labour. The next day came and they both saw little me!

I wanted to include this into the poem as it felt sentimental and sweet. I see the poem as a basic introduction to my life and the poems up ahead.

The radio is an important factor as my parents named one of my middle names after a song my Father had heard on the radio.

My Mother apparently was so worried about me being potentially hurt at my birth, she didn’t realise when the doctors had came in to discuss my birth, it wasn’t me who was in need of help, it was her.
I thought that it really showed how much my Mother loved me before I was born, anticipating me to come into the world. I know deep down, she always wanted a little girl, so I guess I was what she wanted at the time.
I did try to base this poem on a rather Epic form solely because I loved the storyline layout, it almost has a rather fairytale opening to the poetry book as a whole, I don’t think I’ve ever given Epic an attempt before, but I do think first time, I could do better, but it definitely came out sounding rather loving, which I think I still personally count as a win.