when you are crazy
as crazy as I am you
don’t realise it
because your perceptions have shifted
away from the reality of the crowd to a reality of your own bipolar
is a thief it steals who
you are and replaces you
with some imposter someone you don’t even know and you are forced to live
in a world that’s no longer your own
I cannot escape my illness any
more than I can escape my shadow on the dark days I scream on the bright days I
laugh there is no
in-between but
even in the depths of misery there is music inside of me I get high I get low
but I can live with myself in either mode
perhaps there is a world far
far away that has a darker
sun and that’s where
I’m supposed to be some here think I’m too much but from my perspective they’re just not enough they judge what they
don’t understand
and I pity them for that selective blindness is a
dreadful affliction
my illness may be invisible but
believe me I am not I do not go quietly you’ll know where I’ve been I
am a creature of irrepressible emotion and it’s a life I’d gladly exchange if
I could find a recipient wicked enough to be deserving
between the mania agitated depression mixed
emotional states and suicidal ideation
no-one can understand bipolar geometry
least of all me it’s
the will to die and
the motivation to try
it’s a morbid dread scouring the streets in search of murder it’s a dark well full of
bitterness and despair it’s
a curse I wouldn’t wish on the devil himself
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