Living with Bipolar Disorder can be very frustrating at times.
Bipolar
An illness
Just another excuse
To me?
A prison
A disease
That eats away at life
Until there’s nothing left to feed on
In the core of my mind
The pit of my heart
The center of my soul.
Bipolar
A sickness of the mind
And of life
Making every day impossible
Getting through improbable
But yet my tortured soul
Makes it through each night
A little weaker
A little more shriveled and dry
Until life itself has no meaning
And I’m me, just me
Life a bed of nails.
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