Bipolar Cliche

Life as a manic-depressive's very drab, and wearisome at times; it's bad enough to drag me down where I don't feel so tough. When manic, I have the rare gift of gab; when I do, I want to take a taxi cab to the club; get smashed; and act like a rough: but I don’t as I fear the cops' rebuff; so, I behave like mice trapped in a lab. My life's so full of hopelessness, it seems; if I could, I would end it right away; but that'd be taking it to dire extremes and drama; so I oscillate all day, and at night craft poems of less suicidal themes— God! I'm such a wretched, bipolar cliché!