World Mental Health Day 2025
Young Poets (16 and Under)
This year, we were truly moved by the number of young people who wanted to share their voices for World Mental Health Day 2025.
Originally, we weren’t planning to run a separate competition for young poets, as doing so would mean putting additional safeguarding measures in place. However, thanks to the incredible support, care, and cooperation of parents, carers, and guardians, we were able to make this happen — with full permission and encouragement from those who guide and protect our young writers.
Celebrating Young Voices
To every young poet who took part — we see you, and we are so proud of you.
Your words were thoughtful, powerful, and filled with heart. You spoke honestly about how mental health touches your world — your families, your friendships, your schools, and yourselves — and you did so with courage and creativity beyond your years.
A huge congratulations to the winners of this year’s Young Poets category.
Your poetry reminds us that understanding and caring for our minds starts early — and that young people have so much wisdom, empathy, and hope to offer.
The Mind Matters
At Poemstellium, we take mental health seriously — for everyone, of every age.
The mind matters from the very moment a child is born. How we nurture it, listen to it, and protect it shapes how we grow, connect, and care for others.
That’s why we believe poetry is such a beautiful way to express feelings, release emotions, and find comfort in shared experience — even (and especially) for young writers.
Looking Ahead
To our young poets — thank you for supporting us and wanting to be a part of Poemstellium. You inspire us.
We’re happy to share that next year we’ll be creating a dedicated space just for you, so that young poets can continue to write, reflect, and be celebrated safely and proudly.
We can’t wait to read what you create next.
1st place
SMILE
Smile as wide as you can,
because this could be the last time you will ever smile again.
Everyone said to major in medicine,
but I majored in depression.
I lost interest in things I used to love,
and felt lonely even in a crowd.
2 a.m. thoughts caught my throat,
pillows soaked with tears —
at least they bear with it.
Pulling leg about my insecurities = burning me alive.
Do you know what the last stage of depression is?
It’s smiling like nothing’s wrong
while you’re slowly breaking inside.
LAKSHANA.K.L
2nd place
THE MASK SLIPS AT NOON
At 8 a.m., I’m fluent in small talk.
Good morning tastes rehearsed,
like chewing yesterday’s gum.
By 12, I’m bargaining—
If I survive lunch without spilling tears,
I’ll call it triumph.
If my hands don’t shake
while I sign the receipt,
no one will guess I’m trembling.
By 4, the inbox crowds my name.
Every subject line feels like a stranger
waiting to call me lazy.
The mask fogs over—
a glass pane smudged with questions
I can’t keep wiping away.
Evening arrives greedy.
The house demands dinner.
The world demands answers.
I serve both leftovers of myself,
scraping the plate clean of energy.
My laugh rings counterfeit,
but it buys me another hour.
Midnight strips me bare.
No applause. No audience.
Only the mirror
and a body counting the cost of presence.
Still—
I survived another day of disguises.
But survival is not freedom.
So tomorrow, when I lift the mask again,
I’ll staple on that same practiced grin,
the one they market as resilience.
Truth is, it’s duct tape.
And if it peels mid-sentence,
consider yourself billed
for every hour I faked alive.
ESSENCE JOHNSON (EDJ)
3rd place
ROOMS I DON’T SHOW
There are rooms inside me
that I’ve kept locked for years—
where silence hums like a ceiling fan,
and grief folds itself neatly
between the bedsheets.
Some days, I open the door a crack
and let the light in,
only to find dust
where I thought there’d be healing.
Even dust, though—
is proof something once stood here.
I’m learning that recovery
isn’t a sunrise but a flicker,
a trembling candle that forgets
it’s made of flame.
And maybe that’s okay—
maybe surviving means
learning to sit beside your own ghosts,
offering them tea,
and saying,
“you can stay for a while,
but you don’t get to drive.”