A little poem I wrote about bipolar and me. |
Stolen Mind Do you think that I am crazy or think I have gone mad , One mintue I act so happy, the next I am down and sad? You ask me many questions , the answers I can not find, I know you are trying to help me, but I can not control my mind. Would you call me crazy or think I was insane If I told you about the man I saw standing in the rain? What about the others , the ones who look unkind? You do not see these figures, they are only in my mind. I see the figures moving , fear washes over me, I freeze , How could I ever tell you , it is not something you could believe. Would you still want me if I told you, some of the things that I really feel , Like somebody behind me , they are chasing me , but it's not real. That fear,the panic the adrenalin, that makes me want to run and hide , Would you still want to be that man , standing by my side? The thought someone wants to kill me ,while sitting on my own, You have no idea how scared I am, when I am all alone. The voices wake me in the night, although I cant hear what is said, I lie there shaking next to you , too scared to leave the bed. There is no way of me knowing when my mood will decide to swing, Perhaps I might want to dance today , twirl around and sing. I might walk out infront of that car , as it could not hurt me at all, I am too high up in the clouds to notice that I could fall. I will spend some money widely ,does not matter how much I waste, For once I get that rushed feeling, I just savour the sweet taste. Perhaps I will be angry and become agitated and not sit still , Then along comes the postman and in the bin, goes another bill. Do you ever wonder why, I forget things that I have said , Somedays I am too frightened to even get out of my bed, With no clue to what will be my mood , not something I can choose, Out of choice I hope it is a high as then I never loose, On a high I become someone else , someone much better than me, I am invinsable to the world , I can do anything then you see. I could be a writer , a model , perhaps I will be a nurse But this is not really me , its a high mood which is a curse. And then I hit the ground again and the depression does its best It leaves me feeling tired , my mind just needs to rest Then I turn into a monster, screaming I hate you, I want you out, Sometimes you are scared to talk to me incase I start to shout. I can not bear to feel you touch me , stay away I want to be alone, Only I hear the knock at the door or the ringing of the phone, I have no control over my feelings , I will often sit and cry, This is when that voice creeps in, to tell me just to die. This is a daily battle , not something that will go away, Are you sure you can handle this , that you really want to stay, I know that you are trying to love whichever person I have to be , It is so difficult to remember which is the bipolar and which is me. |