Psychotic Illness With Additional Self Harm
Depression Poem
The Space

Psychotic Illness With Additional Self Harm

My God please help me, please, please dear Lord,
I feel so bad; I’ve got to cut myself with a Wilkinson Sword.

To see my blood flow creates such a release,
All the bad feelings and hurt seems to cease.

Sitting in the centre of my circle of blades,
Reality, reason and judgement all fades.

Will my razors slice leave a scar that others can see?
Not like the real ones, deep down inside of me.

These are not my thoughts but those of a friend,
When unwell, like me, she goes right round the bend.

You can’t really understand how it feels if you’ve not been insane,
Think yourself lucky you don’t know such terrible pain.

Toys in the attic - over the rainbow,
Sectioned, locked ward, bars in the window.

What causes this? what’s wrong with my brain?
Could it happen to you? would you go insane?

Psychotic is the state of being mad,
It doesn’t mean I’m stupid, unintelligent or bad.

One wave short of a shipwreck, knitting with only one needle,
Mental illness is no joke - no Jeremy Beadle.

Alistair MacDonald

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Depression Poem

Why do I bother going on like this
There is no meaning anymore
Day by day, week by week
It all blends into one
I have no idea what's going on
Every day I stumble on
Not knowing where I'm headed
The same faces same places
It all blends into one
I have no idea what's going on
I have no idea why I'm so fucked up
All I want to do is die

Judith Eyre

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The Space

Just a little cautionary note: This poem may be TRIGGERY for some. Keep yourself safe and please don't read it if you think it'll badly affect you. Take Care, xxx R

hollow.
empty space inside of me.
vast, black, empty abyss.
cannot be filled.
no matter how hard i try.
so i eat.
crisps, chocolate, cakes, sweets.
i eat and eat and eat.
i hate myself.
i cant stop.
i look in the mirror.
a stranger stands before me.
vast and ugly.
imprisoned in a cage of fat.
fat is evil.
run upstairs.
bend over the toilet.
stick your ugly fingers down your ugly throat.
wretch.
cry.
fat is evil.
then i'm done.
i can calm down again.
but there is a space
it has to be filled.

Lucy Kettle