Being bipolar…
It’s losing jobs, it’s losing friends,
It’s feeling like the journey ends,
Before it has a chance to start,
It rips your heart and soul apart.
Being bipolar…
It opens up a frightening world,
Where stigma’s ignorance is hurled,
By those without a clue or thought,
For what is faced or must be fought.
Being bipolar…
It’s sleeping days, it’s sleepless nights,
It’s contemplating fight or flight,
From everything that haunts each bend,
Not days, nor weeks, but years on end.
Being bipolar…
It’s dealing with the side effects,
Of meds and foggy intellect,
It’s flying with a broken wing,
It’s being numb to everything.
Being bipolar…
It’s cognitive belligerence,
That leaves you sitting on the fence,
Confused and shattered, high and loud,
Engaged in life, beneath a shroud.
Being bipolar…
It’s racing fast, it’s stopping dead,
It’s everything you’ve hoped and bled,
You can’t be beat, you always crash,
Your life is bliss, it’s in the trash.
Being bipolar…
It’s talking cause you cannot quit,
It’s hours staring where you sit,
It’s minutes feeling petrified,
Forever knowing you can’t hide.
Being bipolar…
It’s manic in the afterglow,
Depression, with no place to go,
Impulsive, the admission price,
Is dancing through the fire and ice.
Being bipolar…
It’s learning who you truly are,
The truth, the hope, the falling star,
The introspection which is key,
In setting your emotions free.
© The Complicated Bunny – 02 Nov 2020
The Complicated Bunny 