To me being bipolar
Is like being in touch with the moon
It comes and goes

I have fallen for three
The first carried me through the torturous meadows of life,
kissing my forehead the entire time
The second held my hand on scary rides and brought me flowers and sushi whenever I loathed to be alive
The third wrote poems about me then crinkled them up to show how easily he could throw me away because he controlled me dead or alive
I shall fall no more for a poet

I called her honey blossom,
Honeysuckle blossom,
Simply sweet, intriguing, delectable
She tasted like it too

Sometimes I think we're enemies
The devil created us to spew hate at each other
Then fall back asleep in each others arms whispering sweet dreams

I was wetter than the a tsunami rain

I was a lost creature,
..........................
I am a lost creature
but now in the midst of being found.

If your nice enough I’ll let you pull my hair

I no longer resemble the skin I wish to be in
And I am neither disappointed or pleased

I truly do not feel capable of living and because of that I have never felt alive