As much as I am not used to ‘blogging’ my thoughts I used to be quite into poetry. Well I say, used to be as more a way of saying that I wrote a few while doing my GCSE exams many years ago (I’m 40 next week so that says how long it’s been). I quite often got accused by my English teacher of being a little dark in my wording but I think it was maybe the only way I could express another side of me. I am certainly not by any stretch of the imagination an accomplished writer but I sometimes look back on these and think that maybe the root of my anxiety / depression / mental illness (call it what you like) has always been within me hidden away somewhere deep.

With this in mind I decided to have another go at writing what was in my head and putting it loosely into a poem. Here goes:


What is it at this moment?
What is it at this time?
Why do I feel so empty?
At this junction of the line

Is it all around me?
Is it in the air?
Is it all just nothing?
And never really fair

The constant fear of failure
The constant fear of life
It’s all just too consuming
Anxiety is rife

I want to stop it coming
And filling up my head
But really, how can I feel
Happy and full of dread

I stare out of the window
At all the world around
But nothing is inside me
Not a single sound

I have a simple notion
Of screaming out aloud
But no-one knows I’m hurting
I’m far too strong and proud

The one they can depend on
When times are getting hard
But now I need some caring
There’s not even a card

To say they’ve noticed I
Am not my usual self
No happy smile, just emptiness
No trophies on the shelf

The sparkle now has dulled
No glitter there to shine
Why do I feel so empty?
At this junction of the line