A poem, dear me!

Dear me, when one door closes, another opens.

Its the pain that follows that swallows my emotions.

Sleepless nights, shaken and soaking,

It’s those who love me picking up what’s left broken.

I’ve fought my hardest to stay alive,

I’ve considered my options; on how to survive.

It takes strength and power, something I’ve not got.

The more I fail, the tighter the knot.

As my days dim, they pass with caution,

It pains me more occurring so often.

I’m scared, panicking, shaking and feeling worthless,

I lay back and gaze to the stars on the cold ground surface.

I try to act normal in an attempt to fit in with today’s society,

It’s difficult pretending when really I’m battling with anxiety.

My head feels as if its going to explode feeling the size of an asteroid,

I’m feeling hopeless, hearing voices and fed up being paranoid.

I’d often question, is this real or is it just an obsession.

After an assessments, it was confirmed, my diagnosis is manic depression.

I have my bad days, my life seems a mess.

Yet another assessment and another diagnosis, I’ve post traumatic stress.

I’m trying my hardest to get my life back in order,

Yet another diagnosis confirmed, I have a personality disorder.

I dream of nothing more than a life filled with realness,

Yet i’m a stage of my life struggling with mental health illness.

People talk and many will judge and avoid me,

I need to better my life, even if it’s the smallest of degree.

Dosed with medication wishing change would happen sooner,

I’d love nothing more, but to focus more on my future.

I feel lost, stolen, empty and alone,

To those who don’t understand; it’s difficult to see past the zone.

I want normality, I want to feel more useful than an old library’s bookshelf,

I guess I have to focus more on my recovery to overcome my mental health.

– James Keenan


“BLUE CURTAINS” is a poem I wrote whilst in a secure unit during my mental health recovery.

Behind these blue curtains here I lay,

There’s no interaction and nothing to say.

I’ve help from Doctors and the Psychiatrist too,

The more I endure the thoughts the more I want to do.

It’s a mental health facility i’m here for help,

despite their efforts I still want to reuse my belt.

I still hurt and worry and mostly I sit scared,

I just want to feel normal, I just want to be heard.

I ask myself why, I even question life and me,

I doubt myself, I want to be set myself free.

My mind isn’t focused i’m struggling to concentrate,

I’m just an unworthy burden adding more weight.

I’m crying sore each morning, evening and night,

My hopes are zero to overcome, I don’t see a future insight.

I’ve a bruised faced, blurry eyes, i’m drugged and sedated,

I’m fighting my own struggles and feeling hated.

To say that I feel great, well that would be a lie,

When really, I’m hurting sore and all I want is to die.

I’ve got my Partner, Mum and Sisters for support,

Despite what I have, I harm to distort.

It’s difficult to imagine and even harder to speak,

With my best efforts buried, my eyes can only leak.

The more I feel trapped, my pain will worsen,

I just want to be better and feel like a normal person.

So I ask myself why, why me, why was I chosen?

The answer I get fills me with overwhelming emotion.

I’m locked here, sat in front of this blue curtain.

Can I guarantee my future, I’m not very certain.

I’m hospitalised and unfortunately sectioned,

Im trying my best to find my right direction.

I’m hard sore and done with crying,

my heart aches as i’m slowly dying.

So this is me, this is me currently,

In hope for a future set with clarity.

Despite my hope and one thing for certain,

At this minute it’s just me and this blue curtain.

– James Keenan


A poem opening up about my personal experiences of trauma.

Here’s a little story about a boy so young, fragile and frail,

I hate myself with reminders whilst living through shame.

My emotions fill a page full of tears as I write,

I feel scared and confused and see a future nowhere insight.

You took your insecurities and made them my own,

It’s your face that still haunts me, especially when i’m alone.

I was shaking and weak when you’d act out your crimes making me obey,

Punishing myself I stood in fear, allowing me to be your sexual prey.

You told me you wouldn’t hurt me as my eyes began to fill,

It was then my world collapsed around me and life stood still.

Your voice whispered and your movements echoed the empty room,

Feeling your breath against my bare skin giving you power to just assume.

I was reluctant to be your victim, but your force soon applied,

Your threats circling my mind as my hands where tightly tied.

You used me, you abused me, you stripped away my pride.

You took no acknowledgement of the hurt I had to learn how to hide.

I questioned when would it ever stop as I say so vacant and fragile,

I had to ask myself did this actually happening or was I going senile.

I often thought of running away or stepping onto the busy road,

My future seemed so black and white at only nine years old.

This isn’t what life should have been, I felt the blame for far to long,

I don’t know how brave I was to remain so incredibly strong.

You made it out to be fun and games, despite the horrid consequences,

You plagued me with money and gifts to keep me quite of your offences.

Now it’s my future in attempt to find me some inner peace,

I took my pain and opened my my scars, I reported you to the police.

I may be free from all the agony of your actions and words once said,

Your actions may stick, but now it’s time to erase you from my head.

I close my eyes and vision the struggles I once had to bare.

I hate how you controlled me, but if anything you’ve made me more aware.

What’s important is I found my voice and I don’t know how,

It’s now over twenty plus years you’ve played with my head for too long now.

I know what you did was wrong leaving the subject of abuse taboo,

My survival has made me mentally stronger and braver too.

I’ve found my voice Anthony, you’re the guilty one.

I hope you get whatever comes, because i’m the survivor, I have won!

– James Keenan