This Is The Real Me

how does one become a poet in a **** hole of existence
we run a muck through the give and take of sought through cadence
I'm bipolar, suicidial & psychophrenic
I've been hospitalized for an extensive stay
suffer in silence through depression deep in thought
yet in group I seek comfort for being mindful of my actions
groping my way through the enterprise
days I have panic attacks sweat episodes
this is the real me

I see two cats at the edge of my bed that aren't there
see the eye of the Alan Parsons project on my door
I'm manic one moment and bipolar the next
take a good **** that I scream inside for help
I'm in classes seeking help for my depression
was denied social security three times

what the **** am I here for
for I exist as a vapor then I am no more
lingering, unfolding & loving
I have a good heart
yet I wear a pamper do to falling **** that comes out my stead
I'm wrapped up with emotions
yet I'm continuing to play on the one guitar string I'm being dealt.
haven't worked since 2015
living off of my mother's help for now
I'm telling you the truth this time no sugar coating it.