Introduction
Through Their Eyes brings you inside the minds of young people battling mental health challenges. These aren’t just poems – they’re raw truths straight from children and families who rarely get heard. Each piece comes from sitting with them and their families, listening to their stories, and crafting their experiences into verse. After each poem, you’ll find a breakdown of what these young people are up against.
This piece – both the poem and everything around it – keeps things real and unpolished. As a young person myself, I believe mental health deserves raw honesty, not just in the stories these children share, but in how we talk about them too. No fancy academic language here. Just honest words about difficult experiences.
Speaking of difficult experiences – this poem dives into something most people don’t even know exists: childhood schizophrenia. Most think schizophrenia only appears in the late teens. But sometimes? It shows up much earlier. This poem takes you into the world of a 9-year-old boy dealing with a persistent voice that follows him through his daily life. It shows how one voice can disrupt everything from dinner time to playing with toys, from school work to family relationships. Notice how the focus stays on a single main hallucination – that’s often how it starts in children, with one dominant voice rather than many. The poem captures how this voice interferes with simple childhood activities like riding a bike or drawing in art class, things most of us take for granted. Try imagining what it’s like being a child trying to sort out what’s real when your own brain plays tricks on you, when even warm soup at dinner becomes something scary. It’s intense stuff. And because schizophrenia rarely appears before age 12, lots of people don’t even realize children can go through this. The poem also shows the vital role of family support – how Mom’s bedtime stories and Dad’s reassurance become anchors in a world that often feels unsteady.
I share Through Their Eyes because these experiences need telling. Mental health challenges are real, and those facing them show remarkable courage. Each poem breaks down another wall of silence.
Poem: The voice in my room
There's someone in my room at night
who tells me scary things;
I know he's not there in the light,
but still his voice, it rings.
My thoughts keep jumping everywhere
when trying to read in class;
the voice says people stop and stare—
I wish these thoughts would pass.
When Mom makes dinner, I get scared
(though soup smells warm and good);
the voice says something is hidden there
that no one understood.
I used to play with blocks and trains,
build towers to the sky,
now building makes my head feel strange,
and I don't know just why.
The pills they give me every day
make mornings feel like fog;
I miss how things were yesterday
before the voice could talk.
Sometimes I hide beneath my bed
when everything is too loud;
Dad says it's just inside my head,
but fear still makes me crowd.
The voice gets angry when I try
to tell it to be still;
it makes me want to scream and cry
against my own free will.
At school, I stare at math sheets long,
the numbers start to swim;
the voice says all my work is wrong—
makes everything look dim.
I want to join the football game,
but sometimes legs won't move;
the voice says I should feel ashamed
with nothing left to prove.
In art class, drawing used to be
my favorite thing to do;
now colors swirl too bright to see,
and lines won't stay there true.
My little sister doesn't know
why sometimes I get mad;
the voice tells secrets, whispers low,
makes good things turn out bad.
The doctor asks me every week
about the things I hear;
I try my best to sit and speak,
but words fill up with fear.
At night, Mom reads me stories still,
like back when I was small;
it helps me fight against his will,
makes voices seem less tall.
Last week I tried to ride my bike,
just like I used to do;
the voice said cars were coming right—
I knew it wasn't true.
Some mornings feel a little clear,
like fog has lifted slow;
those days the voice seems far from here,
and I can almost grow.
I just want back my building time,
my books, my favorite games;
instead, I listen to the chime
of thoughts I can't explain.
Dad says I'm brave for fighting hard
against what no one sees;
Mom holds me in our backyard,
when I can't find my peace.
The voice might stay here in my head,
that's what the doctors say,
but maybe someday far ahead,
I'll learn to make my way.
About childhood schizophrenia
What’s childhood schizophrenia really like? While most young people worry about schoolwork and friendships, others battle their own minds daily.
When you have childhood schizophrenia, you might:
- Get lost in confused, tangled thoughts (disorganized thinking)
- Lie awake through endless nights (sleep disturbances)
- Drift away mentally (lack of focus)
- Feel constantly on edge (agitation)
- Stay in your room rather than join others (social withdrawal)
- Carry invisible heaviness everywhere (depression)
- Show no feelings at all (emotional flatness)
- Develop strange, intense fears (unusual anxieties)
- Stop trusting everyone around you (paranoia)
As time passes, it often gets more difficult. Other challenges appear:
- Voices and visions that won’t leave you alone (hallucinations)
- Believing things others say cannot be true (delusions)
- Moving strangely, as if not in control (abnormal motor behavior)
- Struggling with everyday tasks (decreased independent functioning)
- Neglecting personal care (poor hygiene)
- Showing no expression (reduced nonverbal communication)
- Finding school unbearable (academic difficulties)
Imagine trying to focus in class while voices scream in your head. These young people cannot even eat lunch without their minds showing them terrifying things no one else can see. The loneliness is profound. Deep inside, they just want someone to understand and help quiet the chaos.
To anyone facing this: Your experience is real. Each day you manage to get up is a victory. There are others that understand what you’re going through. Seeking help shows wisdom, not weakness. Yes, the hallucinations turn everything upside down, but support exists. Medical science keeps advancing in understanding and treating this. The difficulty won’t last forever. And no matter what happens, you’re loved.
The World I Knew
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