SIX SIDES 

A stark meditation on survival through chemical management, where daily PTSD is medicated into numbness through pharmaceuticals and cannabis. Shannon explores the paradox of self-preservation—becoming a "damaged breed" dependent on substances to function, raising questions about the cost of staying alive ...

You havent seen the six sides I hide

From anger to shame and everything else inside

There’s days where I feel nothing at all

There’s days where I feel my problems too tall 

to conquer or fight so what’s even the point 

So pass me the pills and pass me the joint 

Let me medicate myself normal, someone like you

Ha I can’t keep a straight face. That’s not true 

I’ll never be normal, a regular, I’ll never be sane 

But that's all because of trauma and pain 

That’s slowly leaking out after years of quiet 

With pills and pain and hurt as my only diet 

I’m still trying to find where all my pieces fit

I’m still trying to figure out why I deserve this shit

Did I do something wrong? What did i do in a past life? 

To warrant this kind of daily trials, tests and strife

Most people deal with down days. Not daily ptsd

90 % of people won’t understand what it did to me

Nor do I want to spill those details and make them feel sick

If that’s how they feel, imagine my Ick 

Having to actually live it, day after day

No matter what I do and no matter what I say 

So how do I let out how I really feel

How do I make this abundant and real 

F**k this noise and all it’s done to me

And f**k you too if that’s something you can’t see

I'm sick and I'm tired but I'm fighting my best

And I'm so tired my soul's crying out for rest

Telling me I can't keep this up anymore

My heart is broken and my soul is sore 

I've tried bandaids, I've tried to suture 

And I know what's to come in the future

Confusion and fear, afraid of what's to come

And afraid of all the things I've already done 

So understand I'm trying, my heart is about to burst 

But I know the pain is still coming, and it's the worst 

Any break I get is small and doesn't do what I need 

I feel like the dog no one wants, the damaged breed 

So I need to be shown or figure out on my own

Just how far I've come and how much I have grown. 

YOUNGER ME

A tender yet devastating conversation with her inner child, acknowledging the trauma that took root in early childhood and remains embedded in her adult body. The poem witnesses how parts of her continue to suffer in real time, refusing to let that younger pain be forgotten or minimized ...

I ran into my younger self, today 

She was barreling past, and pushed me out of the way

I took a minute, to look her up, and down. Dressed in black and red, like me, never brown

I wouldn't have recognized her, if it weren't for the hair 

Green as grass, I could see her draw a stare

From those around us, something of which I'm used 

But I also saw the scars, I saw her skin bruised

I tried to call her name, but her headphones helped her avoid pain 

And so I decided to chase her down in the pouring rain 

Following her, I could see her hiding her body

Wrapped in torn clothes and hoodies so shoddy 

That she felt invisible, like someone of the street

She didn't realize that feeling is something she'd never beat. 

I could see the things that she was hiding 

Like the medical devices, with how high her clothes were riding

No one else would notice the curve of an ostomy bag

Feeling like even people knowing would lead them to gag

And the IV site still sore, on her chest, her arm

 And she'd gotten so skinny, falling caused her harm 

She drags her feet, the heavy boots on her feet don't help 

Wearing a leather, hair shaved close to her scalp 

I noticed movement in her pocket that made me smile

Realizing she'd been hiding a pet rat the whole time 

I call her name again, and realize she's ignoring me 

Because I don't think if she'll look, she'll see. 

A woman that looks like her, with a dog by her side

And yes, I'm still broken, but I've learned I don't have to hide 

Half as much as she thinks she should have to

That's the big difference, between me and you 

She looks at me with confusion, and fear

As I call her name and try and draw her near 

Knowing I could use her curiosity to my advantage 

Hoping I hold the higher ground, peering from my vantage 

So she can hopefully see, she's the younger version of me

And that a future ? There will be. 

Because I know her better than herself

That she's struggling, with all of her health

Mental, physical and emotional health too 

And I know she feels lost and doesn't know what to do 

But I'm scared for her to know, I hate that she's gonna try

And I still fear that she feels she's better off to die

Her red flags have had so many people say "f**k you" 

And I know she fears she'll never find anyone who loves her true

And I wish I could tell her that she found the one who will stay

But I can't say that's the case, at the end of the day 

Yeah  I know she has a lot to change, and so do I 

But I need her to keep going, I need her to try

Because if she can't get through this, there's no me

And if there's no me, there's no chance for either of us to be free. 

She feels like once someone's seen the bad and ugly 

That she won't be able to say " someone loves me" 

Someone more than Mom and Dad, wishing for the peace she never had

I wish I could tell her, that these feelings are just a fad

 But I can't lie to someone , who would hold it against me

And I can't cause her more pain, when I already feel guilty

That I wasn't able to be there when she needed help true

I wish I could warn her about the things people were gonna do 

And how she never has a piece of me to hold onto 

Just a little bit of strength to get her through 

To see that eventually the problems wouldn't go away 

But she'd try her best, and find a way 

Cause everything I've done is for her, not me

Her and the soul she left under the willow tree

I want to do something that she cannot avoid 

Something to break the monotony, to make her overjoyed 

So I bumped into her, and when she met my eyes

I lifted my sleeves, so she can see I covered her tries

With all the tattoos, she'd had planned since we were young

The ones she's wanted, before she had begun

To cover skin in steel kisses, and red and white scars

I know she's taking pills, and hiding them in her car

How would I possibly stop her and get her to see

That we are years clean, from drugs, and self harm free

The addictive thoughts have never actually stopped 

She'll find that out,once I speak and her stomach dropped

 That I am someone she can trust, that I'll help her clean the rust 

That's been tainting her blood, from day one, or bust

Cause I need her to see, that without her there's no me

And that without me, there's not gonna be a her to protect 

And all I want is to keep her safe, like a little project

Finally, she sees me, and she takes the headphones out 

And asks me what this is all about 

And I can barely squeak out, who it is I am 

And when she asks me to prove it, I do what I can

And show her the scars, from me and from surgery 

Something concrete that she can actually see

Not just another person saying " you can trust me" 

But then doing nothing but cause her to bleed

No, I need her to see that we are one and the same 

and that against her I hold no blame 

She does nothing wrong, she deserved none of this 

And one day I'll be able to show her that there is some bliss 

In this life, there's too much f**king uncertainty 

But in all this uncertainty, I need her to trust me

STAINS

A raw reckoning with hypervigilance and the permanent marks trauma leaves behind. Shannon writes herself as a "fighter" used by others, exploring how shame becomes factory-installed in survival, and how the body holds onto every wound—visible or not. The poem refuses to let trauma be forgotten or polished away.

Ive made peace with the monsters in my brain ...

Sitting there telling them my trauma based on the stain

Which cleaner to use, and which one I used to abuse 

And how I know the difference on which one to choose. 

I have got too many f**king problems 

And I know no one is tough enough to solve them

I gotta fight my own Demons, of that I'm pretty good

But I've never been as good at the could, would, and should

There's nothing stopping me from protecting that little girl 

Who's been beat down and trodden on by the whole world

So I hold her tight to my f**king chest

So she doesn't get trampled down like the rest

Of the thoughts and feelings and needs that came from me

Being told everything from I'm too high maintenance , too easy 

Too sleazy, too upright , too "something just ain't right "

They don't know the way I grew up is how I learned to fight 

Cause in distress, is when I find myself waking up 

And reminding myself I can't pour from an empty cup 

And the glitter on my eyes I once put as a distraction, 

Is now a call to action, the shards are for traction 

For little me to follow, to claim her spot on the back 

Leaving little fires everywhere she told us to attack

And you don't question a child, that pure and innocent

Knowing that for a soul like that, we stay vigilant 

So give her the Gunners seat, and call her tank girl 

Because she now pilots where we go in the world

So here we sit, in this broken shell of a brain 

Living off nothing but humour, deep and dark with pain. 

But joined together, by the glue we made ourselves 

And we get by, with communal mental health 



FANNING THE FLAMES

Shannon's unflinching exploration of burnout and domestic fracture. This poem interrogates the relentless pressure of keeping up—the mental and emotional fire that ignites when survival becomes its own full-time job. She writes from the space where exhaustion meets responsibility, where those closest often don't see the toll being taken. A raw accounting of what happens when the demands of daily life consume every resource we have ...

Can’t you see that I’m falling apart 

And I’m standing here trying to hand you my heart

While I prepare to rush into the self ignited fire

And try to pour water, on the most important and most dire

Moments of my life, memories I can feel burning away 

Grasping for the hose, praying even for a trickle not even a spray

But everytime I grab the faucet to put out the ember

I’d forgotten the faucet was red hot, I am too stressed to remember

And I can feel my voice box burning as I yell and hope

That I can reach out to someone for help, to cope, 

But it’s becoming increasingly clear , that I burden even my lover 

And if they can’t handle that, nor can another 

And that I set the fire myself, knowingly or not 

And I can’t tell if from the ember of my cigarette it caught 

Or if the spark came from someone else’s action, 

And I’m paying the ultimate price, though it’s seen as a fraction

Of the kind of pain that I apparently cause to others 

And I’m tired of chasing the sparks , in an attempt to smother

The sparks that pop up somewhere else the moment I put them out 

And my voicebox is too burnt to scream for help and shout

That I am running out of skin to carry the spreading burn 

And how to cry, and fight are actions I’ll have to relearn

Because I just want to stop I want to lie in the grass

And feel the heat, hear the popping of broken glass 

Hearing the screams for me to get up and run 

But I have no more energy, I feel like I am done 

I can smell the burn and see the flames 

And I’m scared I will end up living in memories and frames

Living behind the glass, trapped and reeking of gas 

Eventually forgotten about till the last time Mom lights a candle at mass

I never thought things were gonna be this difficult to cope with on my own

Would I have chosen this life, had I been told? Had I known?

That it was gonna be a struggle every step of the way 

And that I would be suffering at the end of every single day

In one way or another, scared to let down and disappoint my Mother

Praying to God and begging Dad to make me strong; make me tougher 

Cause I’ve been suffering for so long now and I can’t take anymore

At what point did I ruin my life, and ruin my high score

And feel like I have to start over from the broken building left standing 

And those painful feelings my heart and brain are commanding 

Wanting to punish me for everything I have and haven’t done 

Things I remember and things I don’t, all the things under the sun

To make me feel like I’m not just watching my world burn from the curb

Started as a small fire, when I saw first light

Then the crying fanned the flames, and I've lost the fight

My hands are burnt from a fire extinguisher that never existed 

And I should call for help but it’s too late, I resisted 

And now look where I am, suffering fighting fire

With fire

And I thought I would be able to win but the situation is dire 

And I just wanna escape but no matter where I look

There’s claws and barb wire razors and hooks 

nothing prepared me for this In any of my books

There’s a reason why I hide most of my feelings away 

Because all it takes, is for one small ember to stray 

And then here we are, standing in a burned out shell of a home 

Knowing that there is nothing left of what I thought I'd known