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Fritzi Melendez Nov 2017
I am tired with the feeling of being dismissed, criticized as to what I'm going to do next.
I am tired of forcing myself to choke back the tears, hide my barb-wired stained arms behind a long sleeve sweater.
I am tired of fidgeting to keep my sleeves past mid fingers, because my knuckles are swollen and bruised green and purple from yesterday's misdemeanor.
I am tired of insomnia always wanting to be held by me, being woken every 2 hours as if I was tending to a crying baby.
I am tired of running around and around my brain, always overthinking until I go past insane.
I am tired of how my energy stops out of the blue, leaving me nothing but to stare into the wall dazed and confused.
I am tired of making people run away from my presence, love and hurt and leave me until I'm left too sick to keep myself barely on balance.
I am tired of walking with wobbly and scraped knees, my palms are bleeding with skin peeling off, barely able to write more sad poetry.
I am tired of being hurt by everything and everyone, they say my heart is a blessing, but it has cursed my life since the day I was born.
I am tired of the cruel criticism towards me, years upon years of insecure comments that developed into PTSD.  
I am tired of having to rely on someone else's heart just to make myself feel worthy and complete, I can't help sharing my entire heart just to get it back again obsolete.
I am tired of the sickness that tells me good morning each day, opening my mouth to cleanse my body of the food from yesterday.
I am tired of looking at my skin in the mirror, as my rib cage becomes more visually clearer.
I am tired of breathing in the oxygen plagued with depression, opening my eyes to a vast blur in my vision.
I am tired of smelling the fear raid out of my body, their eyes watch as I shake and choke on my spit as I drown in the sweat caused by my anxiety.
I am tired of feeling incomplete, my hollow heart filled with thoughts of the night my soul fell to my feet.
I am tired of crying on the bathroom floor alone, shaking with ***** dripping from my mouth whilst trying to type for help on my phone.
I am tired of wanting to be loved and adored, knowing full well they'll leave me when they get bored.
I am tired of scrolling through my phone to fill the space of pleasure, because his name is screamed to me until not my legs, but my brain makes me shake as if I was having a seizure.
I am tired of being vocal about my mental illness, if it only brings me back into a bigger mess.
I am tired of ruining everything I touch, shattering like a fallen sculpture, not being able to fix it much.
I am tired of thinking until I get ******, screaming with every  punch on the wall because I'm alone and won't be missed.
I am tired of dreaming what could have been between him and I, instead I begin to think of different ways to die.
I am tired of seeing my window sill every morning, thinking about how I can just jump from it so I can avoid today's daily dooming.
I am tired of talking without words to speak, instead they're drowned out by wails until everything turns bleak.
I am tired of being told I'm going to be a failure, only because my suicidal thoughts have made me unsure.
I am tired of the pressure for me to do better in school, knowing they are just going to insult me for being an emotionally unstable fool.
I am tired of the tears kissing my cheeks goodnight, only to knock me out with the help of the looming monster that is impossible for me to fight.
I am tired of feeling and being weak and fragile, telling myself I'm strong are only words filled with false hope dripping with vile.
I am tired of the days I feel happy and alive, whilst also telling myself this is temporary and will soon deprive.
I am tired of my mouth being sewn shut as to not mutter a single word, trailed off when it finally unravels to people who refuse to have me heard.
I am tired of the numbness in my body after I break down, realizing the man-made tornado had once again ripped into my lonesome town.
I am tired of being alone and having no friends, because I'm still trying to heal from the knife twisted deep into my spine from the last person that wanted my life to end.
I am tired of keeping myself in captivity, when I know that I can free myself to feel amenity.
I am tired of the bipolarity in my decisions, always asking to be left alone but cry when I'm not given attention.
I am tired of being the family burden, an annoyance who can never do right with flaws that can not be undone.
I am tired of getting tangled into the constant mess I put myself in, they say I keep doing this to myself as I place my problems on my head with a pin.
I am tired of being ******* to the strings, in which exhaustion plays and moves me like a puppet's unescapable fling.
I am tired of being tired all the time, it's becoming so hard to find words that rhyme.
I am tired, I am just so
Tired.
Lately has been nothing but terrible outcomes and I feel worn out and exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can keep these shallow breaths going.
RoDin Jul 2013
part of me
stands
as a stiff bust
in the center of the square
(no one cares anymore. it's been there for a long time)

part of me
dances
as a shameless plastic bag
gone with the wind
(it is disturbing. its plasticity is too mobile and *****)
Josephine Lnd May 2013
An empty ******* tank, but with full throttle
been running on idle on top gear,
now the engine has seized up and I
am forced to surrender every morning
to the fact
that I have to eat pills not to go into myself,
go into a corner and go under

and even though I’m on the maximum dose
there are still days when I can’t
get outside the door
just laying down, sinking through the couch, back down
to a state I don’t want to allow
but I have no other choice but to keep breathing
as if I were on ten thousand meters altitude

and I have no other choice but to surrender to
the fact that I can’t handle myself,
that I wouldn’t get up without
these forty milligrams a day
yet still I stand there with my sword drawn behind my back
can’t let the guard down unto the enemy that is reality

and now they say I have a bipolarity they
want to medicate, stabilize
my moods
I have a flawed brain, I have a flawed history
been making too many bad choices, involved myself
in too many ****** up people and got stuck
as if I didn’t have any other choice
when really I just could have opened my eyes
and see my own part of the story
  that I’ve always been looking for someone more broken than
what I’ve been,
to take care of, in stupid attempts
to drown out my own weakness

it’s as if I’ve always wanted to find excuses
for feeling the way I do, being the way I am,
that I don’t function at all
  never wanted to realize that it was in me
the fault lied
  always on the hunt for someone who could destroy me anew
so I didn’t have to see that I was already annihilated
by myself,
so I didn’t have to see that there were no hangman,
that I stood there with the axe in my own hands
and blood on my shoes

//

en tom jävla tank, men med gasen i botten
har kört på tomgång på högsta växeln,
nu har motorn skurit och jag
är tvungen att kapitulera varenda morgon
inför det faktum
att jag måste knapra piller för att inte gå in i mig själv,
gå in i ett hörn och gå under

och trots att jag ligger på maxdos
så finns det fortfarande dagar då jag inte klarar av
att ta mig utanför dörren
bara ligger, sjunker igenom soffan, ner tillbaka
till ett tillstånd jag inte vill tillåta,
men jag har inget annat val än att fortsätta andas
som om jag befann mig på tiotusenmeters höjd

jag har inget annat val än att kapitulera inför
det faktum att jag inte klarar av mig själv,
att jag inte skulle idas resa mig upp utan
dessa fyrti milligram om dagen
  ändå står jag där med svärdet draget bakom ryggen
kan inte släppa ner garden inför den fiende som är verkligheten

och nu säger de att jag har en bipolaritet
som de vill medicinera, stabilisera
mina stämningar
jag har fel på hjärnan, det är fel på min historia
har gjort för många dåliga val, har involverat mig
i för många fuckade människor och fastnat där
som om jag inte hade något annat val
när jag egentligen bara kunnat öppna ögonen
och se min egen roll i det hela
  att jag ständigt sökt någon trasigare än
vad jag själv varit,
att ta hand om, i korkade försök
att överrösta min egen svaghet

det är som att jag alltid velat hitta ursäkter
för att jag mår som jag mår, är som jag är,
att jag inte fungerar alls
har aldrig velat inse att det var hos mig
felet låg,
ständigt på jakt efter nån som kunnat förgöra mig på nytt
så jag slapp se att jag redan var tillintetgjord
av mig själv,
så jag slapp se att det inte fanns någon bödel,
att jag stod med yxan i min egen hand
och blod på mina skor
J  Aug 2021
I was Feeling Lost
J Aug 2021
Nah. Y'all are always romanticizing depression and bipolarity but yall for real don't ******* understand the struggle until you've been without your pills and suddenly you get them back and they lowered the dosage when you needed higher ones. I'm sobbing right now because I cant seem to get up to being even halfway normal. And yeah, normal doesn't exist, but you know what **** sure isn't normal? Struggling not to **** yourself every single day, struggling not to switch your moods because that **** is impossible, and sometimes you don't even realize it until you're being yelled at right-back, then you get your feelings hurt because you feel like everyone's against you because WOW welcome to mental illness. I can't help being so ******* impulsive and scared and ****. You know, this **** feels like ******* trash. You feel insecurity on steroids and you can't keep a ******* relationship of any sort stable. **** *****. One moment it's like I love someone so intensely that ill die with them, and the next they could just disappear and I wouldn't give a ****. I feel like everyone's against me when I don't have my meds and then they go and lower the dosage???? Do you have any idea how long I went undiagnosed andunfuckingtreated? That **** almost killed me. I get a chance of being just ******* okay. Just content and this **** happens. Am I being overdramatic? Yeah. Guess what. It happens with BPD and bipolarity. The paranoia that's stress-based. Loss of contact with reality. Suicidal threats or behavior or self-harm are usually in response to separation or rejection, and like I said I already feel like everyone's against me cause of this ****. And then on top of that, there's my depression and anxiety. Let me ******* tell you, this **** is torture. I want just a day. Just one where I can feel like I'm okay. But go ahead keep romanticizing depression and anxiety and bipolarity and BPD, but you don't ******* get how much this kills you inside and out. I'm done with my rant. I feel better. Getting through life one day at a time. I just needed to get this off my chest.
Luis Mdáhuar  Aug 2014
23
Luis Mdáhuar Aug 2014
23
1

the free wheel turns
and from the asphalt
the chains dissolve
after every consonant
like a sphere walking on heels
sums the response of your epoch
daaa-brrrum-pa-uf
the sound continues

2

on a sleeping tree
that spits butter
every other morning
MERZ came along
dancing on neglected values
like the horn of whales
bending water at every
corner
in the slums of egotism

3

art has no meaning unless
art has no arms unless
art devours brains unless
art verifies stupidity unless
art has to be edible unless
art sleeps like an idiot unless
art bleeds through my fingers
unless art

4

falling like dominos
will turn the bipolarity of the glass
only to be slashed
so I can see
my pillow that rebells
to the murdering machine
every night
every night with gloves
filled with blue feathers

5

we are born
we are children
we grow
we die
in between, there is a shadow
covering the ghost
slowly piercing your skull
singing on tip toes
in the enchanted forest

6

I call
for the un-trembling hand
amidst the violence
and humanity
against the frozen word
breast of black matter
where spring holds her veil
river stones and milk
ghost of love

7

garbage laying
daughters of despair
renounce the yolk of logic
senses shall play
as it was intended
do not let reason fool you
she’s no more than a
servant

8

who disbelieves
imaginary facts

9

the betrayal of reason

10

Popart popart
garbage of the past

11

a malicious smile
Hans Arp, Raoul Hausmann, Hannah Höch
and Richard Huelsenbeck
out of the ruins of German culture
all conceivable materials
the union of art and non-art

12

continue to study the natural world
childlike and convoluted
the elated and troubled
new forms of typography
a new visual language

13

The **** regime banned
all your creative activities
Primiti Too Taa

14
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete                                                       ­  
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
Beeeee 
bö.

15

Why?

16

the movements of the poem
string, cotton wool or a pram wheel
equal with paint
to reverberate
carved on its journey
repeating them in many different voices
a relentless momentum

17

new people, new shapes, colors, and details

18

blast the institution of slavery
blast the educational system
blast the paper cup morals

19
simultaneous happenings
will reign in the hearts of men
and turn them small and
smaller

20

Imaginary facts and the marvelous
appearances of the right moment
which is a woman
or a dice
with the shape of a cloud
******* on happiness

21

find a place

22

The nose is a myth

23

feign of death
the modern man
Homage to Kurt Schwitters
HAHAHA
BOOHOOHOO
You made me laugh
You turned me blue
HAHAHA
BOOHOOHOO
Please wake me up
From this disquietude
I have a crippling bipolarity..
Aisyah MJ Jun 2014
i long to hear your voice,
to laugh and just be there for you again,
just to be with your presence,
just to see that glimpse of your soul again.

we used to be something,
everywhere i go, everywhere you go : we used to be an item,
and, now, i walk with a new crowd, you walk with yours,
yet my heart yearns for you,
there's a hole when you left,
and, i can't just fill it up,
everything seems meaningless,
there's no spark in my life without you.

i feel this emptiness.
this gaping hole,
which just keeps on growing,
the one you made when you left,
because i have chosen the wrong one,
i made the wrong choice,
i did not picked you..

when i breathe at night,
my throat constricts,
it chokes up,
memories flood in my silent night.

i remember the days,
our days,
when it is just you and me,
in our own little happy bubble,
rain, snow, fall, sunshine,
you were there for me,
in my light and in my darkness,
in my good and in my bad,
you never complained,
you held me,
you were my glue that prevents me from shattering,
from my melancholic train of thought,
when i fall, you were there to hold me up,
you embrace me in your warmth,
when I’m all melancholic, you were there to cheer me up,
you know when to buy me flowers,
you know when I’m sad,
you know whether i'm just feeling sad or when it's just me in my melancholic moments,
and you understand that its just a phase,
you know me the way no one knows me,
you’re my everything,
you’re my valentine,
you WERE my valentine.

now, that you're gone,
I’m building a fort now,
just putting up walls after walls,
layering them up in solitude,
after all the heartbreak I’ve felt this year,
all the betrayal, all the confusion,
all the dark colours of human nature I’ve experienced,
because, i cannot handle that amount of pain ever again.

despite all my defences,
the walls that guard my heart,
the scar you left me,
it's still there.
all i can do,
is to be reminded how good you were for me.

i am much more stable now,
yet i crave for those days where you were always there to support my craziness,
you embraced me for who i am,
you never call me stupid when i am being irrelevant,
you never call me dumb when i am being illogical,
my bipolarity was never an issue for you.
you were my yin to my yang.

i love you so much, val, i still do.

i have never missed someone as much as I’ve missed you.
*So, this year has been an emotional ride for me. I lost one of my closest friend due to some drama in my life. I picked another person, and not the one I should have. Never have i felt this much amount of regret, and yet there's nothing i can do. He moved on without me. All i can do is wish him all the happiness in the world. :'( *
a  May 2014
Battle
a May 2014
I turn on my heel
in the blinding darkness,
feet tingling over the warm night sand,
only for the dark to be pierced
by the shining light from the illuminating moon
onto the land.

And below it, the murky waters
mimicking the sky above
In all its dark, sapphire glory.

The sea’s bipolarity inflicts,
as it sways and swishes,
gently hitting against the eroded rocks betwixt,
before stilling momentarily and resuming its dance.

I step forward from the ticklish golden grains,
interrupting the perfection of the sea in front,
slicing through its peaceful layer,
its mood changes: it roars, it shakes.

But I continue, carefully diminishing the ocean surface,
killing it with every step I move forward,
going deeper into its place of sanctuary and refuge.

And then its fury comes into action,
trapping me in its freezing grasp;
I’m stuck, unable to move.
Its revenge is coming, it is inescapable.

Then it happens, by a split second,
the icy depths, now conjugated with the once-still surface,
to make a prison, inescapable, unnegotiable.

Leaping, jumping, pushing me underneath its shallow exterior,
I scream a noiseless scream, lungs burning with misery.
The melancholy is true, inevitable.
There is nothing I can do, but calm underneath the covering.

I am going to die.

But I wake up,
in my bed, though in a cold sweat.
“It was a doomed dream,”
but no, it was not.

For though I may have not drowned
physically and ******,
I am already dead,
emotionally and mentally.

And as I walk through the shattered glass of Consequence,
I see that it may have just been better off as a reality,
for my world is already drowning me,
but this time, the sea, the tormentor
doesn’t have this much magnificence and beauty.

And I battle it every day,
listen to its insulting notions,
back and forth, back and forth.

It doesn’t understand
what I have to go through.
the constant demand of society
is enough to want me to bid adieu.

“What the hell is wrong with you?
You’re a piece of dirt,
no matter how hard I rub off the stain,
it just never comes off, it always grew.
That stupid stain is you.”

Yet I still must go through it,
non-stop, every second of my conflicting life,
not a single moment of peace,
not even in my sleep.

As I walk through the burning abyss of Memory,
I am bombarded by the bleeding wounds,
not yet healed, fresh and open,
and it hurts, the pain is unbearable.

The fighting doesn’t stop,
I’m told that I’m hated,
worthless, unneeded,
“Go, leave, go die,” it stated.

I must battle with my mind.
I must carnage with myself.
And it’s not going to ever end.

I’m better off going to the cemetery.

Because this is the world I must endure.
Copyright 2014.
This is a poem I wrote for a competition: I think it's fairly obvious I'm pretty new in the whole poetry business, so if anyone could drop me any tips or criticism, I would greatly appreciate it and won't hesitate to return the favour.
Tommy Johnson Feb 2014
This poem indicates my scatergorized pattern of thought
We are a generation of gas masks and 3D glasses
Now we are a nation of bullet proof vests and USB drives
Grotesque regurgitated shallow sympathy
Universal imagery
I’m no type of Sadducee
In medicated revelry
Mood disorders and bipolarity
Inspiration
Found at the bottom of a decanter from Macedonia
Truculent truths and the opposition of common place thought
Andy why am I so indignant prey tell?
Because
I
Am
Drunk
Ha ha ha
Kara Goss  Oct 2012
Unlikely
Kara Goss Oct 2012
My bipolarity has lead me to no truth
Just mixed emotions and no thoughts of a you
No thoughts of a me, life, death or rebirth
I am otherwise blessed with a curse
Can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t even begin
My start is at the exact same point as my end
Nothing even matters
All care is lost
I’ll still seek a successful future
But these hopes are store bought
I wish it would rear its ugly face south
I feel every nothing from my toes to my mouth
In the middle of the compass
The magnet has yet to guide me
And joy right now seems just too unlikely.
Petal pie  Mar 2014
Metamorphosis
Petal pie Mar 2014
I desire a metamorphosis
I know,  I feel,
Life can be better than this
I'd like to rise
A majestic thing
With grace and his glory
Shining in my wings.

Take flight
With colours rare and true,
Pretty like the chalkhill blue
Or glowing like the
Monarch's orange hue.

But instead I am trapped
In the cocoon stage
Wrapped up,curled
Stuck in sinful nature's cage
Wings not yet unfurled

Imprisoned by fragility
Brought on by bipolarity
Kept in emotional intensity
For what feels like eternity

But one day soon
I will feel free
From the cocoon's shackles
That bind me
I will feast on the nectar
Of His good word
And soar and flutter by
Free as a bird

Free in the sure certainty
The promises he's made
Sure of my saviour's love for me
My debts that he has paid

But yet I still feel like the caterpillar
Fumbling around
Still finding my way
I'm grateful for creation
Still orange striped and hairy
Yet not at all scary
Awaiting transformation! :)
NuurSeraph  Jun 2014
THE MEDIATOR
NuurSeraph Jun 2014
I play Mediator, mediating between two strongly influencing Forces.
They are of different spaces, but each knows of the Other.
I listen to them both osmotically, they are often at odds with each other.
I am a practiced listener, objective enough to understand the nature of their Stance.
I retrieve below the surface message, the empathic persuasion in me does this well.
Such accounts for any bipolarity I might exhibit in thought or emotion.

One Force thrives on impulsive pleasure, in behavior there is tremendous energy and manic spontaneity.
No concern with inhibition or societal conventions. I must always keep in check a childish tendency to center motives solely upon itself.
This is when I make intervention and repeat the Lesson of Conscious Expansion....
I have Authority and so of course this Force listens and quiets it's power back to steady periphery.

The other Force is Otherworldly.
So Extreme, it by far surpasses me in ability.
This Force I tap into, I listen to its subtle inflection, it's Perception is uncontainable, it's Language is unexplainable, but Understandable to the Sensitive Senses.
Here is the Gift, that must be earned, must be learned and respected in the Temple of my Soul.
It must be carried through the plight of Spirit searching, knowing no discontent or schism, no division, or derision.

I draw down this Force, I pull up on the Other One.
Puts me in center position.
I Am the Mediator

I am the Borderland between these two worlds that exist in Me.
I will attend to my duties.
I Am the Mediator
of Me.
Duplicity is commonplace
Multiplicity is rare but there

— The End —