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Hunter Green Apr 14
I can’t stop writing.
I’ve stopped thinking,
And started pouring my feelings out through my fingers.
I find some release, but this sharp pain always lingers.
What comfort can I find writing down these ineffable emotions,
When perfect words surround me like oceans?
Nomkhumbulwa Mar 9
He lives just round the corner,
A little boy of only 4 years old;
Born so long before his time,
He is not a typical 4 year old.

He has already survived so much,
Just in this very short time;
Conquered everything he has faced,
Time and time again.

He is kind of a miracle,
Or at least I think he is,
For in his earliest days
Only his mummy truly knew he would live.

I changed my last verse
As I failed to give him credit,
Nobody knew if he would pull through,
But I believe his mummy knew he would make it.

She too is a miracle,
A pillar of never ending strength,
She deserves a poem of her own,
To make it all make sense.

But I chose to write about Callum,
As he is a very special little boy;
After all that he has been through,
He has brought with him so much joy.

He's had tubes up his nose,
Things pumped into his belly,
But taken it all in his stride,
Eyes glued to the telly.

He may be a little behind,
In terms of speech and development,
But he certainly makes up for that
In terms of enjoyment.

He battled to enter this world,
And so rightly so;
Callum firmly belongs here
Anyone who knows him would say so.

His speech has come on leaps and bounds,
Just in these recent months,
So nice to hear him talking,
Talking and able to make sense.

He does have his melt downs,
Not able to get his point across,
But all to be expected,
We line up cars and let it pass.

What I really wanted to write about
Is what he has done for me;
This little boy with all his problems
Has had such an impact on me.

I do not think about what he cannot do,
What he can say, whether he can tie his shoe,
I simply appreciate the way he is,
And focus on what he can do.

In my struggles in my strange world,
Callum is an absolute delight,
I know his mummy sees more of the other side,
I've only been there for short periods of day or night.

For anyone with anxiety
Callum is highly medicinal;
One of the many reasons I believe
That he is a medical miracle.

I maybe shaking before hand
But after spending time with Callum,
I leave calm and relaxed,
As well as having had so much fun.

With his cheeky little smile,
And a head once full of many curls,
His little eyes would melt anyones heart
They light up the room, as he pulls it apart.

He's now a tough little cookie,
He's shown that many a time;
Whether its suffering cold after cold,
Or outside barefeet on the stones!

He knows how to get up to mischief,
We play the light switch game a lot;
He knows what he wants from the kitchen,
He will take you by the hand and tell you whats what!

To me Callum has a bright future,
Regardless of being a little behind;
There is so much more to life,
Than just doing things at the right time.

To me its a "symbiosis",
In Biological terms,
I look after him,
But he helps me too, in return.

I dont know what he will be when he's older,
But I do know he's already a therapist!
"Callum sitting on prescription"
Should be a common request!

I could write so much more about Callum,
But my brain right now is in a mess,
Although when I see him again,
I'm sure he'll re-wire it, and put it to the test!

He is a special little boy,
With a bright shining light;
A bright shining flashing light in fact -
We all know how much he loves lights!

One day he may be embarrassed,
When mummy reads him this rhyme;
When he's old enough to understand,
And to reflect on these lines.

But Callum, all I can say is Thank you -
For brightening all our lives;
Thank you so much Callum-
You help me to survive :)

....lots of love...Aunty Emma :) ***
I wrote this a while back, for my neighbour.  But I didnt want to share it until I had given it to her.
Emmanuella Mar 5
What are you sad about today?"

You see,
I'm sad about my sadness."
"Wish I could be happy about some happiness." She mused.
Alaska Feb 1
She told her
about the way her words
make her actions way more reasonable.

About the feeling
she gets when leaving the room
but taking the words with her.

About the thoughts
spinning and spinning
but never stopping.

She wanted to tell her
about the importance
of her words.

About the meaning
her actions have
and will always have.

About the cold
that gets a bit warmer
every time she looks at her.

About the courage
and faith
that she restores in her.
thesa Jan 12
some die
looking for a hand to hold

i got your hand
in mine
and i'm dying

- dear therapist
what does that say
about myself
Eleanor Jan 6
1) You need compassion for yourself, especially the parts about you that you hate, or dislike, or find annoying, or you'll never feel whole, and that's just a fact.
2)  You need boundaries in emotion, even with the people you love the absolute most. You have to be okay with them not being okay sometimes.
3) We all should have a calm place in our minds.
4) Also, a box for us to store our sad and scary thoughts, that we will promise ourselves we will come back to later, but don't need to feel right in that moment.

\ I'll add more as they come along
:) I recommend her to every one, she saved me. Absolutely changed me.
I pour into
Those that
Do not know how
To pour into themselves,
And I am left—
A vessel for cleansing,
A vase
Of wilting flowers
Who waters herself
And blooms
Keegan Jan 4
I'm writing a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I cant say.
To explain the emptiness that I feel,
The pain I feel everyday.

I'm writing a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I cant say.
To explain my hatred for myself,
The way that nothing feels okay.

I'm writing a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I cant say.
To explain my missing motivation,
The way I can't do anything any way.

I wrote a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I couldn't say.
To explain the twists of my mind,
The truth behind the facade I portray.
A poem I wrote to my therapist to explain .
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
"I Wish I Was A Fridge"

I trust no one,
But I agree to see you;
You come every six weeks,
To see anything new.

I hardly know you,
I saw you last year;
I've seen others since then,
I know im difficult - thats clear.

But you came back again,
because there's no one else,
I have to trust you again,
When I dont trust myself.

But should I really trust you?
Or are you the same?
I hadnt seen you for so long
..i'd forgotten your name.

You ask me to explain,
And I try my best,
To explain whats in my head,
All the confusion and the rest.

I tell you everything,
With paper and pen;
Absolutely everything,
over and over again.

Then you say you cant help me,
So I feel even worse,
You say you are not a therapist,
I should have remembered that first.

All you care about
is whats in my fridge;
You go into my kitchen,
and check out my fridge.

Well the fridge is fine,
It might not be full,
But it has milk and leftovers,
...I wish it had wine too!!

You come here and visit,
And then I feel worse;
For I trusted you with things,
I should have thought again first.

For you cannot help me,
Why do you come?
My fridge is always quite happy,
My fridge is having great fun.

It has no nervous system,
No brain, no spinal cord;
Its incapable of "feeling"
Or trusting in the Lord.

You come all this way,
To look at my fridge,
You come here from Lamlash,
And check out my fridge.

I am clearly a failure,
As its always the same;
The fridge is just fine,
The pain is in my brain.

I wont see you again
for quite a while;
But I cannot promise
to put on a smile.

But my fridge will be fine,
I can promise you that;
If only I was a fridge...
...does anyone else feel like that?!

I shall get out some pens,
And draw a big smiley face;
Stick it on my fridge,
Just for you and your "fridge case".

I wish I was a fridge too, could put in and take out what I choose;
But im not an inanimate object - im a human being,
And I do often wonder....what got me into this state the beginning.

All the best...with love...from the fridge :/ x
Rambling poetry during moments of frustration....not knowing who to turn to.
Aesthetichobo Jun 2018
"What seems to be the issue today?"
A common installment conversed

Everything checked out but mentally
Well your going need some help, okay?

Anyways people your age suffer from all the same thing

Little does this doctor know this ain't the reason why I'm panicking

As soon as your diagnosed its like a big fat sign saying
"B R O K E N"

I'm going to recommend you a therapist,
one to help you take care of this.

One session of fake tears, blaming it all on my dad's absenceless

.... Suddenly, I'm well again.

Doctors really don't know they aren't able to even comprehend

Patting each other on their backs as a
"Congratualtions on your patient ."

As you sit back relinquishing your freedom,  of your own minds to it's own depth.
This is on the subject of forced therapy. It will never truly work unless the person wants help.  Or is 100% open to it.  All people deal with life and situations differently.  It will just create resentment too future treatment.  :) also I don't know how to even poetry  .
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