Tags
abuse, anger, art, auditory hallucination, Bipolar, bipolar 2, bipolar disorder, Bipolar disorder 2, bipolar disorder II, crazy, creative writing, cutting, delusions, depression, hallucination, hypomania, hypomanic, mania, manic, manic depression, medication, mood disorder, pain, poem, poems, poetry, rhyming, sadness, self harm, self hate, suicidal ideology, suicidal thoughts, suicide, voices, word play, writing
Truth without hope is like my neck in a noose. This disease poisons me with a life I’d not choose. Still I refuse to believe the the pot is still hot. So I touch and I touch cause these scars have not taught. I have not learned. I sit rocking in this corner while I try to discern. What is truth without hope? Or hope with out truth? Truth chokes while I hope that this hope holds no truth. What I try to imply is that the answers not simple. It toys with my brain. Like my face has a pimple. It’s ugly, obtrusive, inflamed and bodes pain. It takes over my face only shame I will gain. So please don’t blame me for I know not what I do. My head is so full, like that family in that shoe. It’s chaotic and small and has very little control. This disease holds me hostage, so my life pays the toll.
I scream in my hands. Pound my fists at the wall. I shout and I yell at my demons that call. They call harm into actions, should I feel somewhat appalled? It was nothing at all when Death’s hench men paid a visit. It was my debt he’d collect, as this knife shows my crimson. It was warm and thick like cranberry syrup. At the site blood my body jolts to threw up. As this figure stood tall, I begged and I pleaded. He showed me no mercy, it was grace that I needed.
As this day turns to night and the night fades to day. I remind myself of what’s real, that these feelings will slip away. I think of the sun as it gives plants a new life. The sun on my arms makes me put down this knife. There is not a cut, my neck isn’t bleeding. I use my logic to reason so Darkness keep fleeting. I feel the sun heat my skin. As I lift up my chin. The odds ever in my favor, todays fight I must win. It’s the hunger for light and the desire for love. That brings the bright memories, giving the dark voices a shove.
I focus on light and the energy within. Feel the forces so powerful brings my face to a grin. My brain is a scramble but not turned mush. All the positive memories pour in with a rush. One day down with meds. Midnight hallmarks two. Quieting the loud voices that are staging their next coup.
Whyteknucklez 