A flash of light
and then the boom
Liquid warmth pouring
over tired eyelashes
dark stickiness
coating every inch
of tired skin
the throbbing pain
which only goes away
if you sit
and wait for
another injured soul
to come along and
share their bandages

and all of my demons?
they look just
like
you.

They tell me I'm bipolar
I'm not sure what that means
other than my life is ruled
by council run care teams
They tell me to stop cutting 
They tell me not to jump
I'm quite surprised they don't take notes
each time I take a dump
They worry I'm too happy
then panic when I'm low
at this point my emotions
have nowhere else to go.

They say I'm schizophrenic
and part of me agrees
The other part is not so sure
and screams at all she sees
They say I'm not "engaging"
as I sit here on my bed
but engaging isn't easy
with these voices in my head.
so they fill me with their poison
in many coloured pills
Some to cure the side effects
but none to cure my ills.


I am not a list of symptoms
I'm a person brave and true
but life dealt me it's harsher cards
so now I'm muddling through
I wish you'd seen me better
before all this took hold
I wish you'd heard my laughter
when I was free and bold
Most of all I wish you wouldn't judge as you walk by
or give me sympathetic looks with deep well meaning sighs.

In the end we're all just people
struggling on this mortal coil
some bury feelings deeply
while some bring them to the boil.
The moral to this poem,
for I know this much is true
all walks of life have lingered here
Someday "I" might be " you".