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Jan 2014
Roof over our head, smile on our lips.
Rings on our fingers, baby in the stroller.
You and I work the 9 to 5 shift,
Before heading to bed, lights out with a kiss.
A perfect life: Except I'm bipolar.

The day to day is more than bearable.
Little fights, taking little to heart.
Then I snap, and it all gets terrible.
Singing dramatically, dancing on the table.
That's when the fun part starts.

What triggers it is anyone's call.
It could be a traumatic event,
Or it could be for no reason at all,
Other than neurotransmitters not being sent;
Sending my mind into a place I'm enthralled.

I'm sent to a building that makes me feel well,
After bringing your patience to the brink.
It's a necessary evil, but at the time, it's Hell;
And when it will happen again, no one can tell.
I'm sent home with pills and time to think.

Roof over our head, smile on our lips.
Rings on our fingers, baby in the stroller.
You and I work the 9 to 5 shift,
Before heading to bed, lights off with a kiss.
A perfect life: Except I'm bipolar.
And the cycle continues.
Amy Perry
Written by
Amy Perry  29/F/San Diego, CA
(29/F/San Diego, CA)   
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