Poetry from the YCR Crew working with Daniela Nunnari
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?
Scared of the truth
Of admitting the reality
The voices of those in charge
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!
I am on the sofa everything is fine, then I hear your scared whine,
HELP ME, HELP ME
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,
HELP ME, HELP ME,
What should I do shake in a corner, and hope you pull through,
HELP ME, HELP ME,
I sense the fear my brain explodes “Q-A”
HELP ME, HELP ME,
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
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 “
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!
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.
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,
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.