Voices 2025: Care Leavers Shortlist

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
But the words are inside of me,
they’re buried so deep they’ve become a part of me.
A part of me, apart from me, the words don’t even sound like me,
but its my voice, the sound of me, inside of me.

They’re etched into my skin like embroidery,
woven over time like artistry.
I pull at the threads, but they’re a part of me.
Webs of thoughts hang over me,
like a beautiful picture, it captures me.

Through a maze of tunnels, I question my vitality,
I question my reality.
The truth will set you free,
but my truth is what trapped me.
It holds me tight, controlling me.

“Wear your armour” they say to me,
but I can’t anymore, it’s too heavy.
My shield has betrayed me,
it protects me from the words you say to me,
but what about the ones I say to me?

I can’t tell what is the voice and what is me,
what if it’s not black and white but a symphony,
your words and my voice in beautiful harmony?
Waves of words on the rolling sea,
I repeat what you’ve said about me.

Until its distilled so deep, its like a prophecy,
guiding me through my destiny,
my destiny or my catastrophe?
If I carry on, will this be the end of me,
the corruption of my identity?

This illness inside of me,
can someone give me the remedy?
A cure for the words that treat me like property,
they own me, they control me,
poisoned by society.

Consuming me completely,
these words become my mentality.
Then I think of the younger me,
a girl so full of hope and positivity,
no idea what her life would be.

That girl is still a part of me,
these words I utter become her vitality.
Changing my thoughts changes her reality,
my voice changes her destiny.
So I change the narrative inside of me.

Because I will not abandon me,
that much I can guarantee.
Her life is my responsibility,
my words can set her free.

Because that girl will always be me,
the voice does not dictate my story.

At thirteen, I was cast adrift,
A shipwrecked soul in a sea of strangers,
Home after home, like leaves in the wind,
Each place a fleeting shadow, a fleeting whisper,
Where love felt like a ghost,
And I, the unlovable, haunted the halls.

They said I was a boy, but I wore a mask,
Hiding colors that danced beneath the skin,
Screaming within, trapped in the silence,
Afraid that my truth would shatter the hearts
Of those I held dear, so I buried my song,
A melody muffled, a voice that felt wrong.

In the halls of adolescence, I wandered,
Too loud for the girls, too soft for the boys,
A puzzle piece with edges frayed,
Craving connection, yet feeling betrayed,
Left out of laughter that echoed like knives,
I laughed on the surface, but the hurt cut deep inside.

They called me “friend,” yet I felt like a ghost,
A shadow on the sidelines, a heart that was lost,
With every glance, I felt the divide,
The chasm between who I was and who they described,
I danced in the dark, a flicker of flame,
But each flicker reminded me I was to blame.

In the silence of night, I drew my release,
Each slice of the blade brought a moment of peace,
A map of despair etched into my skin,
A canvas of sorrow where my battles begin,
But the scars told a story, a tale of the fight,
A desperate plea for a voice in the night.

Yet here I stand, with words on my lips,
A tremor of hope in the silence that drips,
I may not be perfect, but I am alive,
This voice, though it trembles, now dares to survive.
No longer a whisper, but a thunderous cry,
For every heart broken, I’ll reach for the sky.

So listen, dear world, as I find my own way,
No longer a ghost, but a vibrant display,
For in every shard of my fractured past,
I’ve found the strength to stand, to outlast.
My voice will not vanish, nor fade into night,
For I am the chorus, I am the light.

Don’t call me on a Monday
when I’m clueless to what to say,
when I’m calming down from anger,
but I’m not feeling any better.

Why can’t you just pick up the phone?
Maybe at a time when I feel the most alone,
when I need somebody to try and come save me,
as I feel the worst on a Saturday evening.

Oh God, I need you by my side.
Oh God, I don’t even feel alive.
Oh God, I just want you to help me thrive.
But I need you after you finish at five.

Don’t call me on a Monday.
I needed you before, but I am number four.
My hair was twisted, making me feel sick.
I wanted to call, but You won’t be available.

But I’m feeling so depressed.
I can not help but stress.
The pain is eating me inside
to the point that I want to die.

I want to try and cry for help.
It’s hard to do it by myself.
Need someone to hold my hand,
listen and understand.

Oh God, I need you by my side.
Oh God, I don’t even feel alive.
Oh God, I just want you to help me thrive.
But I need you after you finish at five.

So for heaven’s sake,
so for heaven’s sake,
call me on the weekend.
Call me on a on the weekend.

Standing in the kitchen, young and small,
it seemed to the rest of the world that I had it all.
Yes, there was joy, but that was overtaken
by the anger, sadness, and fear that left me shaken.

If I could go back, I’d raise the alarm,
use my voice to prevent the harm.
But I was young and scared.
For what came next, I was unprepared.

Fast forward, and I’m older now.
Signs of stress on my brow.
I remember the cold of the cuffs on my wrist.
I remember thinking, why me? Why this?

I hadn’t done any wrong. I wasn’t bad,
but I couldn’t cope with feeling so anxious and sad.
The social worker walks in and I feel with dread.
I’m sorry, there’s nowhere else. It’s off to secure, she said.

Just because there’s no help, you’ll send me there.
I wish I’d used my voice to say that’s not fair.
Skip ahead again to 2022.
Some bad stuff has happened, but good stuff too.

I’ve moved again, hopefully for the good.
This time I’ll feel more understood.
I prayed and I prayed some more,
just as I had the four placements before.

I prayed that they’d understand me and treat me as they said,
until one day, as tears shed,
they told me they couldn’t meet my needs anymore.
And just like that, I was out the door.

I wish I’d used my voice to stand up for myself
to say, you can’t treat me like an object on a shelf.
You can’t move me constantly and mess me about like this.
Without support, my mind turned into an abyss.

I’d say, you can’t expect me to always be okay.
But instead, I was silenced and told to behave.
Then I was back like an animal locked in a cage
with bad thoughts swarming me like the plague
Sitting waiting for someone to save me.
No, not again. I’m not waiting.

This time, I’ll be the one saving me.
Eventually, from that place, I was freed,
and I started to explore a brand new me.
I use my voice to tell them my needs,
and finally someone listened to me.

Skip forward to now and I’m finally me.
Finally, somebody I want to be.
I’m not the sad, bad kid with their life in tatters.
I’m moving on, and that’s what matters.

I’m finding my place in this society.
I still get upset and feel anxiety,
but I cope better nowadays.
I’ve got my friends and family supporting me always.

There’s so many things I wish I could do or say,
but you can’t change the past anyway.
But moving forward, I’ll shout out loud,
using my voice to make people proud.

I’ll use my voice to tell others my tale.
I’ll help other people. I won’t fail.
I’ll use my voice, my very own,
to help people feel a bit less alone.

So what does my voice mean to me?
It means being me and being free.

Verse 1:
I was born into a world that never asked my name,
Taken from the only life I knew—nothing the same.
Thrown into a system that said I was lost,
A child without a future, no matter the cost.

They called it “care,” but all I felt was fear,
Empty rooms, voices I couldn’t hear.
They gave me a bed, but no place to belong,
Told me I was broken, but I stayed strong.

I wandered through halls that echoed with my tears,
A soul yearning for love, surrounded by years
Of silence, of shadows, of questioning my worth—
I didn’t know how to fight, but I fought from birth.

Chorus:
I’m a care leaver, scarred but undefeated,
I walked through hell and I’m still breathing.
They tried to break me, but they don’t know my soul,
I’m rising from the ashes, out of control.

Verse 2:
They said “Go, you’re ready,” but how could I be?
A world so cold, no safety, no guarantee.
I was just a number, no one to protect,
Lost in the noise, no one to connect.

The streets felt like prison, the nights full of doubt,
But every time I fell, I got back up and shouted out.
They told me I’d fail, but I didn’t believe,
Kept pushing, kept fighting, refusing to grieve.

The shadows were thick, the nights long and cold,
But I had a fire that no one could control.
I learned to survive, to stand on my own,
Even in chaos, I found a place to call home.

Chorus:
I’m a care leaver, scarred but undefeated,
I walked through hell and I’m still breathing.
They tried to break me, but they don’t know my soul,
I’m rising from the ashes, out of control.

Bridge:
What if they had seen me, not just my pain?
What if they’d shown love instead of shame?
What if I wasn’t just a name on a list,
But a child who deserved to exist?

What if they knew the strength I carried inside,
The dreams I kept hidden, the things I could hide?
I wasn’t broken; I was bending, not breaking,
I was just waiting for the world to stop faking.

But I don’t need their pity, I don’t need their lies,
I’ve learned to rise, I’ve learned to defy.
I take my past and turn it to gold,
Each scar is a story, each wound is bold.

Chorus:
I’m a care leaver, scarred but undefeated,
I walked through hell and I’m still breathing.
They tried to break me, but they don’t know my soul,
I’m rising from the ashes, out of control.

Verse 3:
The weight of the world was too much to bear,
But I carried it, piece by piece, in despair.
They tried to label me, tried to shut me down,
But I grew my wings; I refused to drown.

I found myself in the cracks of the fight,
In the quiet of my mind, in the dead of the night.
Each battle I won was a step toward the light,
And I knew, deep inside, I would be alright

The world saw me as broken, a shadow on the ground,
But I was a diamond, hidden, waiting to be found.
I rose from the rubble, from everything I had lost,
And now I stand tall, no matter the cost.

Outro:
I’m a care leaver, but I am not the same,
I’ve built myself from the wreckage, from the flame.
No chains can hold me, no walls can contain,
I’m free, I’m strong, and I’m here to reign.

From the ashes, I rise, my spirit unbroken,
I speak my truth, my words are my weapon.
I am the future they never saw coming,
I’m a care leaver, and I’m becoming.

I am a child of care. That is all I am known for. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to improve myself, I am still the child in care who was needy and rude.

I feel like drowning, trying to fix who I am, but it doesn’t matter how much I try. I am still the child in care…

Am I stuck? Am I destined to become this empty void? Or will I eventually bloom, like so many others do?

I feel like I am rotting to the core… like the flowers that are left behind as the other pretty red roses are bought…

The pain I feel sometimes is more than I can process. I can feel it taking over every inch of my being as I think of my past…

Sometimes, I feel I want to stop living, just pause, for a while, and take a moment to breathe, without my mind being clouded with memories of the past.

The constant battle between my inner child and the version of me now is unfathomable. She’s screaming for closure but also for that hug, that love. But she’s scared; so many promises were broken.

But but please. But it was a mistake… but nothing… my heart is still broken… my mother… she was my first…

At some point, I forgot who mother was. I know her name and where she is from, but I don’t see her in my memories.

Maybe she lingers in the background, but she was never there… She was never my mom…. I do not sympathize with her; I am angry and I always will be. Part of me screams, part of me forgives, but sympathize… never.

I was her last child, not her first… It shouldn’t matter, but it does. She failed four times and still continued to have one more child… me…

I will not be her… the cycle will be broken and I will become more than my past… my child will feel loved and wanted and never felt abandoned… the cycle is broken!!!