I want people to be afraid of me,

I want them to look into my eyes and shiver at the darkness that they see.

I want everyone I meet to remember my name,

Something reminiscent of power, influence, or fame.

I have a roof over my head and food on my plate,

But that doesn't mean everything is fine, as of late.

Personal demons have plagued me all throughout my life.

Bursts of false euphoria, followed by heavy sadness and strife.

This label 'bipolar disorder' hangs over my head and follows me wherever I may go,

Like a small trail of blood in the white winter's snow.

Sometimes I dream of rising above, practically becoming someone else, 

And surprising those that I love.

But for now, I just take it day by day,

And hope that I have it in me to drive the demons away.