Cross Section
Cross Section
Reminds me of Woodwork at school
I always came last
Cross Section
Reminds me of dissecting rats
I didn’t enjoy it
Cross Section
Yes I do get angry
When people stop me doing things
52, 117, 9
Inner or outer circle
Nothing like time spent on a bus
Cross Section
Holidays to Cuba and Majorca cancelled
£1,600 lost; yet more anger
Cross Section
A consultant, Social Worker, the police get involved
I have no choice, no control
72 hours, 28 days, 6 months, 12 months
Long stretches keep my future at bay
They take my hope away
I wouldn’t mind if the system made a personal difference
It’s always too little, too late
And now I have little left
I’ve lost my job, my stability
My wealth, my family
My integrity, my confidence
I wish they’d interfered at the right time
Controlled my spending and my mood
Controlled my dreams
The horse has bolted
With effort I can get my life back
I can live happily every after
I don’t ever want to be cross again
I don’t ever want to be sectioned again
I just want personal stability
I just want Karma
Often with my poems the titles don't mean what you think they mean. Written in early May 2009. This is me saying that I get angry when I get sectioned under the Mental Health Act. This has happened to me three times, and the control of your life gets taken away for long periods, anything up to 12 months at a time, on the say so of basically one person, a consultant Psychiatrist. 52 etc refer to sections of the act. The rest of the poem is self explanatory. I want to be kept away from Mental Health hospitals as an-inpatient and to have a stable life in the future, something which I haven't had since suffering a sub arachnoid brain haemorrhage in Oct 1995.
ReplyDelete