Bipolar

In the agonizing sightlessness of the dark, she crawls to regain her consciousness and balance the scales where two minds live inside her very core...one defiant, livid with a sudden vile anger flung unto beloved kin-- The other granting joy's luster through her kind nature, endowing an essence rosy as morning petals-- oh cheerful, vigorous amid the outburst of rain. Until she swings like a pendulum, ghastly once more, tearing hours into unbearable screams... at fault is the one charged of insolence, while her half-part shrinks behind a dainty veil But that makes two of them , one face ripping the other...muddled, desperate in life's torment uncertain if she is dangling back and forth where mother moon leads the way to the path of soundness, graciously. Maureen McGreavy's The I of the Storm 12/5/2018