A story of a girl in a broken world.

Arms of protectors 

Coming into this world, 
Pure cries and warm hearted. 
The first cry of living, 
Sliding into the arms of her protectors. 

 Innocent without blemish, 
Growing up with joy, 
People introduced, 
Sliding into the arms of her protectors. 

 People of different size and smiles. 
One smile in particular, 
She cautioned and trembled, 
Sliding into the arms of her protectors. 

 Interactions of different love and games. 
One memory in particular, 
She is wrecked and traumatised, 
Sliding out of the arms of her protectors. 

 Scarring with blemishes, 
Growing delusional they spit, 
People leave, 
Sliding out of the arms of her protectors. 

 Leaving this broken world, 
Stained cries and cold hearted. 
The last cry of justice, 
Sliding out of the arms of her protectors. 


This semester in uni we are heavily focusing on mental health because as a nurse, this is definitely something that you’d come into contact with even if you’re not in the mental health department or ward. We all know of someone that has a mental health issue and it’s all around. Personally, this has been something I had to come into contact with just a couple of years ago that has left a heavy weight in me. Emotionally and mentally.

All this talk about mental health so far has left me heavy hearted and leaving classes rather weighted only because I always think about this dear friend that I witnessed battle this issue. I’ve seen her at her worst and seen her in better days. Seen her in the ward and other people seeking help in there too. All clinging onto hope to one day get better. The chilling screams and the painful cries you hear ring through her door when I visited her in the hospital. Nightmares of the dearest just doing the unspeakable in my very room and not being able to sleep for the whole week because I had constant nightmares of her walking into my room, greeting me and proceeding to hang that tie up on my ceiling at the foot of my bed.

 However most of all, my heart goes out to victims who didn’t know any better when they were little. There was a story that my teacher told me that really unsettled me and I felt like at that point in time I could really be in her shoes and feel that fear, break down and Explosion of fear and helplessness. I felt like I really needed an outlet and wrote this poem during then. If you put a line in the middle of the poem, it’s a reflection comparison from the top to the bottom. The top is when she was slowly gaining independence and she has a sense of control whereas in the second half, there's this sense of helplessness and lost of control in her world until the very last line where she had no one now and she felt all alone and no one would take her seriously or listen...