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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
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
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
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
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
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! :)
Kyla Plummer Feb 2019
Sometimes it's a rush.
It's energetic to feel,
All at once.

Yet, I want to restrain
From such vulnerability.
Detachment I seek.

I find no shelter.
When I feel, I loathe
Such weaknesses.

Yet, when I feel not-
Even the slightest *****,
I curse at such barriers.

"Forbid me not, to feel."

I am my own enemy
In this psychological state.

I let darkness engulf me.
Whole.

Sometimes it's a rush.
It's energetic to feel,
All at once.

I feel it in my veins,
My blood. Yet, somehow,
I fail to fathom,
How I have come to love,
But come to despise-
Feeling.

Crazy you may call me or
Maybe challenged-
But I understand at some point.
I fail to comprehend at the same time.

Maybe that's a sign,
That I need help,
Relief from my foe.
Me. Myself.
In this
Psychological state
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
Jacey Jan 2013
I'm sorry,
because when we first met I was completely and altogether taken with you.
You had this quirky charm that made me feel comfortable,
made me feel safe.
No matter what was going on,
you just seemed not to care and I took your indifference as a kind of
cold confidence.
And I won't lie,
I liked it.

In groups you shifted between being the center of attention
and having literally nothing to say.
Your social bipolarity
sometimes
led to late night blarings
of Katy Perry.
(I'm vaguely ashamed to admit that
I would dance like a loon, through my old house
and lip sync furiously
at the idea of your Hot and Coldness.)

I'm sorry
because of that one night.
That night when you made some joke
about how we were such good friends.
And I broke down crying and told you absolutely everything.
About how I had liked you,
for so long,
and other foolish things I should've kept to myself.

I'm sorry
because it turns out you felt the same way.
Feel the same way.
Feel that way.
And something happened.
And time passed.
And things changed.
Well, for me they changed.

I'm sorry
because I haven't told you.
I don't know how to tell you.

How do I say it is not you I care for in that way,
but the idea I had of you.
How do I say it,
when I only just admitted to myself,
that this time,
my idea was wrong.

I'm sorry
I was wrong.
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
does my bipolarity
strange-sounding word

does it affect my poetry?

sometimes my poems
are
a bit absurd

one up and cheery
next solemn and dreary
one bouncy and bubbly
another quite ugly

That's just who I am
I'm up, then I'm down
can't help what I'm feeling
can't help a melt down

but I get back on track
a new day
a smile and sunshine
can bring me back

though on meds
to keep me in tow
I still have highs
I still have lows

we all do, I think
sometimes we're not the best "us"

sometimes we're just out of sync
...or maybe the other way round
the world's out of sync
with us
ALK Feb 2013
If I sat here right now
And held it to my head,
I think I could pull the trigger.
I could send a piece of hot lead
Flying straight and true
Through my ****** up head.
I’m sure you’d be surprised,
Wonder why I’d done it,
Why the hell I was dead.
You’d say that there was a lot for me here,
That I had a life worth living.
Look at it how I do:
I’m seventeen,
Still early in life,
Yet my head is so ****** up.
I hate my mind.
If it’s so bad now,
How will it be then?
Would I be able to function?
Would I be living a life full of hatred?
Manic depression,
Bipolarity,
And paranoia.
These things all plague me.
They are badges that I wear
Not represented by my acceptances
Or my grade point average.
To top it all off,
I feel so severely alone.
I’ve begun to live my life mindlessly,
Like a human drone.
I numb myself,
And you see me smile,
But that’s just a mask
That I can don for a while.
I see no point in going any further.
I’m that kid at the party,
Who just sits and hurts more.
The one thing that consoles me,
But strikes fear and panic attacks,
Is the fact that god does not exist.
He plays no part.
So when we die,
That is the end.
We live our lives,
Never again.
So taking mine has a certain finality,
An ultimate end.
It’s a ceasement of pain,
A darkness that the
Mind cannot comprehend.
If I held that gun now,
I could do it.
I could really do it,
My friend.
Lopz Apr 2016
WARNING!
Please do not take this unless
you want to risk losing all respect, care, interest, and relationships with friends, family, and or the general population.
Side Effects may include anxiety, paranoia, bipolarity, and lack of integrity, as well as highly common lack of sleep.
DO NOT TAKE** if not prescribed by God, any saints, and any angels.
Or better yet just don't take it at all this WILL ruin your life for good.
Please take responsibly.
I've been here before and trust me I regret every dose of it.
GuiseOfALoner Mar 2018
Dear life,

My simple rudimentary existence
Is ready to be
GONE.

If I’m gone,
How much pain will there be,
To equate the joyful memories?

If the world’s
an open letter,
I’m unread.

A bad ink,
Erased.
Time-worn.

I’m an empty piece
Of a shell
Living life’s own accord.

Stuck in mediocrity
Whose ambition is neutered
by self-doubt.

When I’m gone,
I’ll accept nothingness
With tacit acquiescence.

Would society remember
The chasm
of my bipolarity.

Their sardonic humors,
Smother me
to death.

Their greatness
Makes me
So small

When I’m gone,
Let them be aroused,
about my idiocy.

And thereafter,
Let them forget,
about my early demise.

Let this mortal coil,
be unwashed,
From a colossal of insecurities.

When I’m gone.
Shin Mar 2014
So she says that I am
enchanting.
Maybe I'm just a fool
surrounding
you, wasting precious air.
This is called
Bipolarity dear.
Jayce Apr 2016
I do not celebrate Mother's Day
What is a mother?
a polaroid that gradually loses its color?
An air conditioner so broken all you can feel is the chill in your bones?
A staticky sound that turns into an overwhelming shriek?
An accomplice to anxiety?
A trigger to bipolarity?
what is my mother?
luq Apr 2017
My eyes, they lie;
an awful lie they tell,
My brain trembles;
by this sinful spell.

My mind, it splits;
bipolarity and depression,
My teeth plaques;
from witty perception.

Let my sight be blinded;
by love whom existed none,
Hell awaites my hollow chasm;
my life pointed by a gun.
1st.
Satsih Verma Sep 2019
Very grim. You
promote the copperheads.
Lakes go dry.

I cannot stop
thinking, watching incessant,
the rains.

Waters send- the
crimson clouds to hide the sun.
Now that ice melts.

Become genderless.
You are walking on a
sleeping volcano.

Where the three
rivers meet, I stand on the bank
to watch bipolarity.

We are not yet dead.
Some wherea flutey whistle calls.
Follow the flames.
Jozef Vizdak Feb 2019
before the first man
came to the woods
for a long time there
was only endless bipolarity
with summers and winters
like two interchangeable twins.
the snows on the top of the hills
were flushed down by april suns.
there was only a hint
yet no notion of change.
no sound of a sparrow’s chant
or of coming tides.
wind travelled alone across the land.
I think some years later from now
after we split apart
he’ll have a hard time
getting accustomed to loneliness
again. but he will possess the second
eternity to forget men.
yogirlturkey Oct 2019
how can  you with  someone who wants  to **** themselves  everytime they feel sad  or somebody  yells at them ?  how can you  be someone  who´s  scared of commitment ? how can you  be  with  someone with abandonment issues ? how can you be with someone that needs reasurement everyday or if not they think you no longer want them ? how can you be  with someone so emotional ? how can you  love  someone  who don´t even love  themselves ?  how can you be  with someone  so  emotionally  unstable  ?  how  can  you be  with  someone  who constantly  sabotages  themselves ?  how  can  you be  with someone so lazy ? how can you be with someone  who don´t see  beyond their  flaws ? how can you  be with  someone who has  bipolarity ? how  can you be  with  someone depressed ? how can you be with someone so negative ? how can you be with someone   who  settles  for  less ? how  can  you be  with  someone  that  takes everything   seriously ?   how   can   you   be   with   someone   so   sensitive ?
how could you be with me ?
1 0 / 0 7 / 1 9  -  6 : 3 6 p . m .
Onoma Jan 2020
Love~

the word forever pregnant

with ill-begotten words.

screams as to deliver and

be delivered from bipolarity.

— The End —