Living Bipolar
Autumn Ann

I'm happy one minute
And then you flip
And so do I

One minute I'm in love
And rightly so
But then you decide to speak

You like to take anything
That brings us joy
And crush it

Well, we won't pretend anymore
You've lost now
It's all over now

We're aren't under your control
You're just going to lose us
But we belong here

And so I'll fight for them
Against you
And do what I know to do

So while you flip and flop
Change your emotions
I'll be emotionless

Because none of us can stand it
Any longer with you
Living Bipolar

#you   #bipolar   #damn  
Cole Atkinson
Cole Atkinson
Apr 14, 2011

i'll hate
and then
i'll love.

Tessa F
May 15, 2013      May 15, 2013

Scars of tear-streaked shame
Or proud tiger-striped strength.
Which are they?
Tonight let's flip the coin.

Self love or self loathing,
Which shall it be?
Nicky
May 17, 2010

The bullet whistled,
And a number fell.
I watched the life drain from him,
His clammy features grey,
And he reached a cold numbness.

I can not fall to this fate.
Born lifeless, the stars have no hold over me.
I am invincible.

I am gone.

and the weather here is seriously bipolar.
Claire Rubbelke
Claire Rubbelke
Jul 28, 2013

I live in Wisconsin,
and the weather here is seriously bipolar.
A few days ago it was
Ninety degrees,
sunny,
too hot.
Today and yesterday,
Fifty degrees and rainy.
Today is not so gloomy,
as yesterday was,
but it is still
Fifty Seven degrees
and the weather is
bipolar.

Icarus
Icarus
Dec 23, 2009

so don't change then
you seem to be perfectly comfortable
in your insanity.
wrestling, withdrawing,
anhedonia coming alive in your party
master wrangler of sorrow,
been there, done that.
and like watching
the christians and the lions,
i am rooting for you
but know you will shed blood.
and when you are devoured enough
you come to life,
crazy sonafabitch.
stay where you are then,
forget em happy pills.
i will go certifiable with you
as long as you do not forget
the lunacy of our love.

*Bipolar.*
Grace
Grace
Aug 2, 2013      Aug 2, 2013

Bipolar.

The toxic word flickers across the blue screen, taunting my tears into reckoning. Everything makes sense now. Now I know each time my feelings crash there is no reason, no problem, no answer. Just disorder. My disorder. It’s swirling in my veins, intoxicating me like a drug, and sometimes I like it.

Each manic moment is incomprehensible perfection, with I as the center of its universe. The world is mine to own, the Gods mine to control. Every movement is unstoppable, the energy seeping out of my very pores. Words come easily; all I am is a flowing expression of the beauty within. Nothing is above me, all are below. I am flawless. Why can’t everyone be so perfect?

Yet each depressed crash sends me spiraling into a darkness I have never known. My nails become bitten, my hair a tangled mess. Every turn I find myself nothing but alone, no one around to notice or care or even see. They are better, everything’s better, as long as it’s without me.

I am a cyclical monster, luring in my prey before dragging it into the pits of my own personal hell. Every shattered shard refracts inviting light, yet they cut deep and only capture people in a lethal web. I am breakable, unfixable. Every shade of me I thought I understood is now a vague gray. Is this smile mine? Are these tears real? Am I feeling pain or is it just the chemicals and synapses dancing haphazardly in my brain, concocting this uncontrollable body that I do not know?

I cannot hinder my blood from screaming for help, but my heart cannot tell what my lips refuse to speak. Lips lie when I try to hide, the habitual sin I can never break. People must be punished for their sins. Locked within my prison, kept without my food, begging to be unchained yet pleading to cement my sentence. A prisoner cannot kill when they are dead.

He asks to help, but he is ignorant to the truth. My arms pull him close while my heart shoves him far away, dooming my flicker of a fantastical romance before it begins. It shoves them all away. The choice is shove or break. No one deserves this, the swirling vortex of uncertainty, depression, mania, unknown. How could I break them too? The only paths before me are to lose them or hurt them. Losing them would kill me; hurting them would kill me. My heart will be murdered either way. How inevitable it is for me to be dead.

This disorder is not terminal, yet its killing me quietly, so slowly, and forcing me to feel alone in even the most crowded room. To become an alien in my own world. They want to save me, but they don’t understand, she doesn’t understand, I am too afraid to understand. It won’t be spoken. Only on paper can my iron heart ease, only alone can I say what I know is real.

Bipolar.

Holly Anderson
Holly Anderson
Mar 20, 2012

The worst part about falling
is not when you hit the bottom.
Not getting back up after the fall.
Not when you have to let go,
Not when you have to move on.

The worst part about falling
is knowing that you are slipping.
Knowing you are slipping, deep down
into a pit of demons and despair.
Knowing you are breaking.
Knowing you will be held hostage
by the devil inside you.

Knowing you need help,
but when you finally cry out,
no one is there to save you.
And you just have to allow yourself to fall.

the phantom
the phantom
Nov 28, 2012

I wanted to enlist as an army babe, but i can take-care-of-my-self,
stay healthy as a tree, no more frantic order's like "Smeeeaaaag?!?"
Just a girl who wanted to be a penguin and swim free,
of the trap of an incomplete mind.

Walls of neutral yellow and beige, as a
sunflower soaks the rays of,
seasonal depression;

lost in this endless sea of confusion.
Is there really dedication, reflects blue eyes of Lilies socket's,
does Eternity really exist?

As a blown kiss,
a wishing well
fish.

The heart is the only gate,
gushing feelings and
simple beatings,
masks this face of shy Grace.

As thundering pride takes over,
build a dynasty and touch the heavens,
Lifted,
as dove on wings, crowned in Gold,
I've found the Soul.

In the lake this treasure keeps
as a door swings open,
step'n on through to morning.
Finding super power's at twilight daze,
thrust onto the writer's play.

I fear my magnet spins a compass    round
                     and round
and round.....
 
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