I was tired two nights ago–

to the point of exhaustion.

I closed my eyes

and the mania hit,

claiming my brain

from much needed rest.

It was a direct punch

leaving me reeling

bereft and adrift

without the light of the moon.

Today is day three,

I feel great, except

I know it isn’t real

it is exactly how I don’t want to feel.

I would rather feel down,

depressed and dead tired

because even though it kills me

I know that it will end.

I will cycle again into happy,

then sad, angry and excited

all in a moment’s notice

because that is what

being bipolar has become.


This entry was posted in Poetry.

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