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Poem

Schizo got my white man knowin’
What papa felt like bein’ black.
Mania got me actin’ 
like a strawberry
fiendin’ fo’ crack.
Got OCD and I cain’t get my hands clean
Passin’ out on my carpet
Because I’m high off my bleach
Spider crawlin’ past my head makin’ me 
Panic
Anxiety attack ragin’ on and now I’m frantic
Nothin’ left but suicide to get rid of this pain

But, if I kill myself I’ll bring reproach on my God’s Name
Can’t even preach
What example do I show?
When people look at me
They have to ask
What could she possibly know?
Tired of the fight
But, I know if I let go…
I’ll never stop-
The curse of bipolar is that I’ll over-do everything
Wind up on skid row
Without a pen-ny
And some type of venereal disease
From having so many lovers
and Probably a bunch of kids
With none of them wanting sick crazy me for a mother
So I lock myself in my bedroom
And become a hermit
Write hate love poems on my laptop 
And pretend I have wit
Dream of contact
But, have to refuse to be touched
Because even one look from a man is simply too much
And I’m out of control
I am only normal
I just want to make love
Sick of great sex
I just want to make love
I’m Crazy and Lonely for Love
CAN I DIE TONIGHT?



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