Don’t let anyone make you unhappy, most of all yourself.

It started out oh so long ago, the fog behind leaves a clue,

but not something resolute.

The times of the day were directed by the signs, yet those

favoured the unfortunate working class towns .

Men working with their hands, women & aprons in the


Neither parents stepped up to the mark.

Daddy gone a fiddling some government cheques, and 

bed hopping in some other ladies bed. 

Mommy gone absolutely insane again.

How were we 3 siblings meant to cope with my

dummy to share between us, and some fairy liquid

for soap.

The days were long being left alone, laurel and

hardy, pink panther on black and white TV, was

our food and receipe. 

Neglect and hurt were what we became used too.

The tears ran dry, our 

screams went hoarse too , left with the stale state of 

unhappiness, as some kind of constant flu.

The pain went deep, and became our badge, visible

for all to see .

Soon, others treated us the same way, 

feeling powerless to stop this verbal decay,

head down carry on , ah let’s just see.  

Quiet teens turn into adult blues, something feels

not quite with you .

Looking in the mirror at the empty vessel staring back at

me, who is this person meant to be?

Colourless and sunken where the characteristic trait .

This was the look of the day, Not hungover or

bed time state.

Surely something had to give, if this went on forever,

would one’s mind match my suicidal mothers fate?

At snails pace the past was faced.

Shock and trauma were blasted by hypnotherapy 

whereas reciting poetry brought me out of my 

misery . 

The pain was intense , the nights were long,

sometimes it felt like my decision was wrong .

Over time my state became calm,  the past was going,

the future bright .

Still something lurked beneath my emotional brow .

I couldn’t work out what was holding me back,

this unhappiness I felt, was keeping me ‘jacked’

Going back to the drawing board of therapy,  tired,

frustrated and unhappy .

Sitting in the chair of deep despair, tears flowing down

wanting to repair.

Finally , the ‘hidden script’ was revealed, what was 

this to be?

”All my life I’d let people make me unhappy”.

This became my state, my normality, until the recognition 

did something very strong to me .

Lessons learnt, plans set , feeling whole for the first time, in

what feels like an eternity . 

The start we had, was no good, 

Becoming stuck Was what it took.

The freedom I feel is a joy, to be in sync again, to live once more.

Nick Davies of Warwickshire School of Hypnotherapy ,you are a 

genius to me . To be able to see the cure before my eyes and 

guide me into oneness will be cherished for ever, you’ll see. 

For those who are struggling, this is a reference to see,

that you are not alone in this battle with Nick as

your therapy . 







This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


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