I've got lead bones and not enough muscle to lift them
The blanket of bipolar depression
Is heavy
I'm crushed in the grinding teeth of paranoia and anxiety
They like to hold hands and jump around together
Stomping me down
Until I am a depression in the earth
Until I fill with rainwater
I am a cup continually filled and emptied
Running between the drought and the flood
The inbetween doesn't exist here
Just valleys and hills
High cliffs and sharp drop offs

K
NI
  VES
          are sharp
             in birth but
               blunt against
                   words. Though
                 I have become
                  used to pulling
                   knives from my
                   back, the words
                  that are said are
                    dropping pebble
                       in a still pond, rip-
                      pling through my
                      soul till the end of
                       days. Wounds heal,
                       right? The pain still
                        feels too fresh. And
                        do scars fade? How
                                          many do I have? Oh                  
                          well. I guess, no, I am
                           grateful, to be honest.
                             For every knife, I've cut
                             the cords of things unn-
                                ecessary. But the demons
                                     plague. My face is but stone.
                   My tears are void.
                   My heart is black.
                 The bare slashes
                  on me, I can deal
                  with. I can cope.
                 I can cope well.
                  I can cope. I can
                   cope. I can cope.
                     I-I-I just wish for
                  one thing. I just
                 wish that I was
                  easy to fix. I wi-
                  sh it was easy to
               breathe. Am I
              dying? Here?
            Alone? Yes...I
               am, aren't I? Fr-
                om my first bre-
               ath, I slowly be-
       gan to die.

You all are the thorns in my heart
Sharp pinching memories
hurt me all across from within & out!

But with love when all of you take shape
I melt like a chocolate ice-cream cone
Would do anything,
to be with all of you.

The crickets are comforting around here.