Untold Torment

No one knows the pain

faced day to day, the fear

manic in the mind, 

oblivious to the world, gone. 

All that matters is the chattel in the head,

slave to the unholy mess.

Phases uncontrollable,

an acid, searing state of depression,

seemingly serene. Yet thoughts run mad,

“Just give in, it’s not worth it.”

Others are simply distractions from the thoughts, 

hallucinations of sanity, illusions of stability.

Unthoughtful and reckless decisions made.

Never the one at the wheel, but always caught in the driver's seat.

Purely a malfunction of the brain,

Misfiring of chemicals,

serotonin, dopamine, and noradrenaline.

Transmitted through genetics, 

Violently tearing at the seems,

Constantly called crazy and ill.

Still, the person is at fault

For the choices they never chose:

booze, drugs, and reckless sex. All side effects,

asked why they don’t just get help,

why they choose to go through he!l.

They don’t choose to go through he!l,

they just don’t see a point in fixing themselves.

Fixing a life they don’t want to live,

like holding on to a sinking boat to

save yourself from drowning.

2.9% of America’s population is diagnosed, 

83% of those cases are severe.

Bipolar disorder affects so many people

And you will never know the pain.


This poem is about: 



thank you

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