I had no name, I had no face
I didn’t grow up with the human race
I had no soul, I couldn’t see
The raging darkness that was inside of me

I had no name, never went to school
I didn’t follow society’s rule
I was a shadow with no past
Because the devil stole me from God’s grasp

I was locked away, I hid in a cage
The darkness inside me grew into rage
The pills they gave me took away my soul
I lived in darkness, growing cold

I had no voice, I couldn’t speak
The pills they gave me made me weak
I had no tears I didn’t cry
From afar, I watched me die

I had no name, I had no story
I prayed to God and found my glory
God took me home, which was my dream
I died alone at the age of thirteen

© Giggles the Poet April 13, 2018 3:00 am


When you grow up in abusive homes as a child, nobody cares, you are like a pawn in a game; a child could never understand. At the age of thirteen, I had enough and tried to take my life. Someone came home and interrupted this and I was forced to live the life of a lost child until I was old enough to move away and at the age of seventeen.


As I had been moved to so many foster homes, strangers were all I knew as a child. So, when I had the opportunity, I moved to Toronto, with a few bucks in my pocket, I left Newfoundland and the abuse behind.


With very little memories of my childhood, I rebuilt my life vowing abuse would never happen again. I started living a life I only dreamed of as a child, and I had a freedom I’ve never known…..freedom from abuse for only six years, then I had an accident at the age of twenty-two…still a child, I broke a rib in my upper back, was misdiagnosed with Rhomboid muscle strain…..and a different kind of abuse began…..


So, became my story of what I called my WALK-THROUGH MEDICAL MADNESS, being experimented on having painful nerve blocks, spinal taps, while the broken rib did damage within for a year… never fully investigated, ignored by doctors, crucified by the Workers Compensation board, harassed and forgotten I lived in medical madness for thirty-three years.


Advocating for myself to keep a roof over my head and trying to stay sane, I fought systems that were corrupt. I managed to quieten the medical madness but was left with nerve damage and destruction that cost me everything and will last for the rest of my life.


This is the life all injured workers have to live. We work all our lives, paying into a system that we THINK WILL PROTECT US, but it doesn’t, WSIB, takes away your dignity, takes all that you worked had for, gives you a label and you are put in a new type of concentration camp that has their own rules. If you don’t fit into their boxes, you are crucified.


Now I advocate for injured workers and the disabled. WE ARE NOT A DISABILITY, WE HAVE ABILITIES….AND WEAR NO LABELS….


I found my voice as God made me a Poet and I got a new name called me Giggles the Poet and for every loss a new poem, perspective was made….and that saved my life, brought me back to live and helps me make it every day.