We miss
We miss the beauty in life
Four walls; stigmatised
We miss idle pleasure
Locked away like hidden treasure
We miss hope and love
No freedom or peace
We get day release
No connections with family and friends
We miss gatherings and reunions to tie loose ends
Loss of basic humanity and the will to trust
We miss music and parties; we are left to rust
We miss the beauty in life
Just simple things
A kiss, a walk, a family meal
Stigma’s here and stigma’s real
“My name is Summer, and I have had issues with my mental health since I was thirteen. What began as superficial self harm in response to the overwhelming emotions surrounding my dad’s newly diagnosed Leukaemia, spiralled out of control into a world that revolved around overdoses, cutting and symptoms of psychosis. When I was nineteen, whilst I was an in-patient on a psychiatric secure unit, I discovered I had a passion for writing poetry. I had always been interested in creative writing, but I found that I could now use it to channel my negative emotions and turn them into something more positive. Writing poetry has led me on a journey of self-discovery and makes me feel like I have an actual identity, rather than being controlled by the chaos that so often surrounds me.” – Summer
