Poetry from the YCR Crew working with Daniela Nunnari

Hiding Behind the make-up

The truth kept way down deep

Never speaking, never sharing

A ship in a bottle that can never break

The fear that lurks beneath the surface

The secrets that are kept in the dark

Everything falls apart at the seams

No solid rock to fall back on

The weight of the world to carry

The overwhelming responsibilities

To young to feel like this?



The tears

The fears

So insecure

Scared of the truth

Of admitting the reality


Acting strong

Being brave

The voices of those in charge




Everyday sounds


Social Workers

Bossy people

Everyday encounters

By Amie



Black Hole

I was 10 years old my mum was diagnosed with cancer.
I was locked in stare.
My emotions are all over creating a picture in my head.
I feel a black hole in my heart.
I see destruction, I’m cold .
I can’t move who knows if my mum will make it.
I’m being sucked into the black hole… or it’s me.
I’m the black hole… now I see black and feel numb.
I’m still stuck in stare, I’m a black hole!

By Cat




I am on the sofa everything is fine, then I hear your scared whine,

I see your twisting body.
I freeze, then cry, your pain stabs me, my breath is short-end by your pain filled eyes and purple lips,

What should I do shake in a corner, and hope you pull through,


I sense the fear my brain explodes “Q-A”
Ash ? Ash, ?

Relived to hear your voice, I’m finally strong and help you to your feet,
The pain, the pressure all gone away. As we finish the rest of the day.

by ash aka emo-tedd.


Tick tock goes the clock, its tablet time
Tick tock goes the clock, homework, I don’t have the time
Tick tock goes the clock, its hospital time
Tick tock goes the clock, friends, I don’t have the time

By Aidan


Heart Broken

When hiding behind the strong me. I feel sad, sick and fed up. I feel like this
because I have a peace of my heart that is broken. That peace of me is my dad who died from cancer.
Although my friends say that he is with me like a body as warm as a boiler.
I feel like he has gone, one of the reasons I feel like this is because I used to get bullied because I didn’t have a dad. And my mum has a mental illness like a dream that you can’t see because it isn’t a physical illness .
All I want is to have that peace of me back. But I no that I wont get that but what I do have is young cares someone who to talk to. Instead of people judging me and thinking that I am a bad person. ” WHEN I AM NOT “

By Celine


Tears rolling down the girls face
Ebony mascara smudges rivaling the dark night sky
Her day may be over but the next is due to start
The never ending story.

This is her life, the vicious circle she faces
Responsibility overwhelms her and it never changes
Her routine is repetitive, she knows no different
But this is life as she knows it, its who she is

Her mother is unable, the guilt is unbearable
The pitiful looks the belittling
The lack of awareness

You don’t know the real things, the real me
But she knows this will never change
After all this is what society is!

By Sami


An advert break, a thirsty throat.

I walked into the kitchen

PANIC! She’s on the floor.

Broken cup. Is she cut?

Scalding tea. Is she burnt?

What do I do?

I can’t scream…

I can’t shout…

A whisper won’t call anyone.

I have to run

To find someone to help.

My Dad comes to save her.

I cannot move.

She’s awake now.

Panic over,

For now…

By Natasha-Jamie


Finally, here is a special edition poem from Dani which she created in preparation for working with the group.

Each morning you hand me your heart.
You sigh with relief as I take it.
Released, you close your eyes to sleep.
You drift away.
I carry it all day.

Wrapped in a handkerchief I bought you for Christmas.
Tied with a ribbon you used to plait into my hair.
I carry it everywhere.

Your heart is heavy,
heavy as a hand grenade.
It throbs and it wheezes,
it murmurs and beats,
and beats,
like a song that is stuck on repeat.
And I get no peace.

It drowns out all noises,
all voices, all choices.
and it takes all I have to hold on.

But I do.
And each night I return it to you.

And I smile and I sing
and watch trashy tv
and I talk to my friends
and do things just for me
and I sleep and I dream
of a time I’ll be free.

Each morning you hand me your heart,
heavy as a hand grenade,
and I carry it,
and my love is the pin.

Daniela Nunnari


4 Responses to Poetry

  1. Lynn Tan says:

    This is such an inspiring website x I intend to do a presentation on young carers, and wanted to take the liberty to ask whether it would be okay to quote some of your poems and a few photo’s? no pressure at all xx either way, thank you so much for sharing your experiences, you all should be incredibly proud of yourselves, you are all soo special xx

  2. Victoria says:

    Wow! I’ve only just found this page whilst researching inspirational pages for my Young Carers Awareness page on my website. I’m going to be adding a link to this page, it is absolutely brilliant! Congratulations to all those who wrote such amazing poetry! 🙂

  3. Victoria says:

    I’d really like to talk to you about whether you’d like to be involved with my new E book? I’m looking for guest writers to create short articles and poetry, to get varying perspectives on what it’s like to be a young carer.
    If you think you might be interested could you please email me at
    caitlinswish@gmail.com where we can discuss it further. Thanks so much!
    …. and congratulations on all you’re achieving!!! 🙂

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