Finally doing laundry,
It’s been two months.
As I sit and I fold,
Careful not to leave wrinkles,
I can’t help but think,
How many more times will I have to pick up the pieces?

As I drive in my car,
Careful to go the speed limit,
The wind caressing my face and arm
As it blows through my windows,
I feel the melancholy sink in.
How much longer will I ache for what has been?

It’s sunny and the warmth radiates downward,
Embracing my body as if to say “Welcome back”.
I can finally feel it again,
My skin is a part of me,
Something I can feel.
How many more times will I lose this feeling?

I’ve spent weeks in a chemical haze,
But not one of my doing.
My brain had once again said “Too much”
And shuddered to a halt,
Spinning out on its way to a restless place.
How much longer will I suffer this fate?

Everything is different,
But it all feels the same.
I’m coming back now from a tiresome journey.
A blast from the past,
I am still exactly who I was four years ago.
How many more times will I lose my sanity?

As I pick up the pieces,
I can’t help but wonder,
How long will I exist in this cyclical race?
When they gave me the pills,
They gave me a life sentence.
How much longer will I last in this unstable state?

Unfortunately, I know.
This is a life sentence.  
I will always be at the mercy of these highs and those lows.
There will be reprieves from time to time,
But it will always crumble once again. So I ask myself…
How many more times can I pick up the pieces?