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Bipolar Questions

A Poem

By Stephanie StrehloPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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I look at the clock, what time is it?

Why am I still awake?

Oh no, am I going manic again?

Is my mind about to break?

It's sad, I have to feel this way,

just one foot out of line.

Fear begins to build inside

this fragile heart of mine.

Maybe I'm just not tired,

I did get to sleep in.

I better not assume, just in case,

I'll prepare myself, again.

But wait, this could be depression.

I was kind of lazy today.

I'm allowed to relax for once, right?

To keep the stress at bay?

Maybe I'm just normal for once.

Everyone experiences this stuff.

Maybe I don't know how I feel.

Maybe I can't call my own bluff.

I can't stand that I know myself so well,

but yet have to question so much.

I never know if I actually know,

or if I'm out of touch.

Just thinking about all of this,

exhausts me until I tire.

And now that I feel I can rest,

my mind proves me a liar.

Is this a symptom? Maybe I'm wrong.

How will I ever know?

Without the heat of a blade, or eruption of ego;

That my knowledge hides below.

Ah, there it is, a brand new day.

Let's see what path I take.

Maybe I'll live without all these questions,

weighing me down for God's sake.

sad poetry
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