Quick Links

Sign In

Lose something?

Enter Username or Email to reset.

Sign Up

Painted Brain | Slings & Arrows: 4 Poems
We're bridging communities and changing the conversation about mental illness using arts and media.
post-template-default single single-post postid-2793 single-format-standard _masterslider _msp_version_3.0.6 full-width full-width cp_hero_hidden slings-arrows-4-poems cp_header_absolute none cpcustomizer_off megamenu no-header cp_breadcrumbs_visible unknown wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-5.0 vc_responsive


  • June 2, 2016

Slings & Arrows: 4 Poems


I’m so afraid to be myself and so afraid to be someone else.

Then who am I just a script on a prescription pad while my medication

plants a new seed in me and harvests nothing until my next appointment

and a blank is once again drawn and it’s then when I’m most afraid of who

I am.


He brought home a 10 penny nail and then he nailed me

and hammered the nail into me all the time.

I don’t need the nail daddy, I give to you

a belt to keep my trousers up.

To keep them up that I may go into public with the dignity that I hold

my family in esteem.

How can I ever define the fine line between love and hate and never know

which is which…….when will I ever know………..

 when will I ever stop feeling the pain?

Hey Pop, give it up, don’t cry I want to die.

Your son,

Daniel William Concharty


It takes courage to die when you know it’s coming

and the slings and arrows await for their prey

and I pray to the heavens and know they’re nowhere

ne’er to be found and my heaven becomes my hell

and no one hears my cries beneath the slings and arrows

that dies with all my hopes.

And all the blood becomes invisible as if I never was.

And if my wish to be dead was said I’d never know how lucky I was.

And a silent prayer tells me how to pray for another day.


She honored herself first, but left room for me, said she, believe me

it will leave me so much more for tomorrow

And top of the morn she made me warm

How far and wide I spied her smile, by the mile it was for me

She cradled life and lavished upon her bosom…a breast that wouldn’t rest.

I helped myself to hear myself and always found myself ahead.

She was my best friend an honoree for me who lives in me

as she always said to me I’M WORTH IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not a father, not a mother, but a grandmother who had the only

clue of who I ever was.

Without her love I’m so lonely with her memory I live again.

Daniel William Concharty is a poet whose work often appears in Painted Brain News

  • Categories:

  • Entertainment
  • Poetry

Post A Comment