I.
Nowhere near sane.
Mood flips, happy dips.
Struggling to be solid.
My insides jello.
Yearning for mellow.
My heart is fire, my fingers ice.
Asked me how I’m doing. Nice.
Pleading for the end,
But no end in sight.
I haven’t done the work,
Not yet, still might.
Only halfway there?
Losing or gaining speed?
I feel hate for you.
But you’re what I need.
My journey is solo.
Bipolar? I hope no.
Want to stay, but HAVE to go.
I’m a mess.
“Duh, we know.”
It’s a battle.
My internal war.
In the end,
My goal is more.
SCREAMING heavy.
Desperation kicks in.
And all of this,
I hold within.