Frustrations loom large in a bipolar life,
Society deeming you nothing but strife,
Subjected to judgement and harsh ridicule,
Bereft of a voice, made to look like a fool.

Unstable, unbalanced, a pain in the arse,
Considered a joke with a life that’s a farce,
Unable to work without losing your shit,
At the ignorance spewing from every git.

Supposedly violent, a mad psychopath,
Severely misjudged by the media’s wrath,
Too loud, too obnoxious, unruly at best,
Just another born loser, a meaningless pest.

An emotional misfit, too broke to belong,
In a culture where normal is tragically wrong,
Just an angry, belligerent, never do well,
Who is labeled insane and then sanctioned in hell.

A stereotypical med munching fiend,
Rejected, neglected, diagonally leaned,
Forgotten by friends who pretended to care,
Forsaken and shunned by contemptuous glare.

Insanely aware that the voices you hear,
Send messages out, you are something to fear,
The truth of the matter is stigma is worse,
Than any dark mood you can put on this curse.

So don’t let the haters dictate who you are,
Stand tall and fly high, always shoot for your star,
You may have an illness, but there’s no excuse,
For the git’s of this world to unleash their abuse.

So challenge consensus, be better, be bold,
Because there are gifts that you need to unfold,
Now honour the person that lives in your skin,
And never give up, or the stigma will win.

© The Complicated Bunny – 14 Oct 2020

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