My name is Darren.

I am 29 years old. I’ve been in care all my life.

I started writing poetry when I was about 11 years old when I heard the voices in my head. Poetry was the thing that kept me going and helped me express how I felt.

Some people say poetry is an art but I say it’s like a medication. It makes you feel good and puts a smile on your face.

When people read my poems and I see them smile I remember the good times and the hard times while I was writing poems.

The poems that I have written, when I was young were to express how I felt but now my poems are to help me and others on the road to recovery.

Please read my poems they will make you smile and cry at the same time. Enjoy.

All I would like from these poems is to make people be able to connect and to relate to these poems and my mum to be proud.

I have won national awards for my poetry. That’s what keeps me going and helps me put my life experiences out there. And that people enjoy my work.

Darren Anderson


Stigma

You open the door

To a room full of people

Who’ve already judged you on

Your mental state

If that is not stigma

What is?

So are you brave enough to

Open the door?


Recovery

Think of the word
Recovery
In the same light as
Discovery
The path or road
Can sometimes be long and hard
But if you work
Really hard you’ll see
Any or every illness has a
Potential to have
That special success story
Which is just another full
Recovery
I’ve been on my path
Over six years
Reversing back each time
But with the right meds
And HELP!!
And Group Work!!
One to One nursing time
I am no longer violent
Or a bad guy
Recovery is great
I hope we all get it
Add to the full
Recovery rate
Everyone can Recovery
With time and the right help
YES YOU CAN


Tears in my Eyes

As I write you a letter
I get tears in my eyes
When I put pen to paper
I got tears in my eyes
It’s hard to keep my hand steady
The pen feels so heavy
With tears in my eyes
Obscurity is doubled
My head is in a muddle
When there are tears in my eyes
My heart is pumping my fist is thumping
And there are tears in my eyes
With myself I’m full of rage
As a teardrop hits the page
But I’ve still got tears in my eyes
The paper is all wet
The ink is smudged
I’m full of regret
As I wipe the tears from my eyes
I should have known better
Not to write this letter
With tears in my eyes


I am a Man

I wish for the world to know who I am
I am a man taken from the land in which I was
To be a labourer for my love ones
Now I sit in a modern made cave
Watching age set in and life pass me by
My cave sits in a ditch surrounded by hills
I wish to run to the top of a mountain
And scream MY NAME IS DARREN MY NAME IS DARREN
Sitting in this cave I sometimes forget I am a man
The cold air that blows upon me day and night
It makes me feel like a animal
I am a man I am a man
This I must repeat myself
In order to keep my sanity
I seek life I seek a renewed spirit
I seek peace
The world is a beautiful place
I never got a chance to live in it


DRIP DRIP DRIP

The drip, drip, drip, drip of my sanity

Slowly drips down the drain

They say the medication will help

But it just masks life around me

Will the fog ever lift

Or will my sanity

Just disappear for good down that drain

Drip, Drip, drip, drip, drip


Welcome to Prison

The cold
The barbed wire
The sound of constant fuss
The small shower
The yard
The lack of human touch
The lonely soul that wishes
The boyfriend that doesn’t exist
The tears that slowly fall
The tightly bottled fist
The wife that still exists but doesn’t mean much
The faces you left behind
The dreams that went to dust
The places you remember
The love you used to lust
The memory of memories
The how, why and what
The look that makes you shiver
The knot that hits your gut
The letter that never came
The call that left you crushed
The must, must survive
The world that seems so far
The sky you cannot see
The bed that feels so hard
The nights you cannot sleep
The food that makes you sick
The nightmares
The stairs
The courtrooms
The pits
Welcome to prison


Prison Blues

Being in Prison is lonely at night
It’s waiting for letters that no-one will write
It’s depending on people you thought were your friends
When they fail to come through again and again
It’s sitting around with nothing to do
Trying to figure out just who is who
It’s finding out that you are all alone
It’s praying for visits that never take place
From so called friends who have forgotten your face
It’s wondering why time seems to move so slow
And every dream you have has no place to go
But I will do my time with my head held high
And keep my integrity and pride until that day I die
The day will come when I am free
Then it will be my turn to forget those
Who forgot about me

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