At First a Bipolar Night, Then a Joyous Morn
When full of gloom and full of pain,
I all alone bemoan my state
like one that has slid back again
into despair which I most hate.
Despondent into the midnight,
I trouble dear God with my cries
as I suffer this bipolar plight
with burning, red, tear-laden eyes.
The night is long—I'm so distraught;
I yearn for rest, to help forget
the melancholy that feels like rot—
like Death and I first ever met!
But I must find solace in this—
my family and friends do care:
and if I die I will be missed.
So, I’ll endure the great despair.
But then sleep comes. And I have peace.
In the morn, I wake to arising—
Joy breaks in, and gives me new lease:
and myself I break off despising!
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen