Bipolar

Staring onto the blanks of skin depths, I might as well fake for forsake. Bright eyed and brushy tailed, Hidden in the mask of despair. Abandoned quiets of youthfulness, juggling with lives apse. "Hush, speak no more. You ain't my reign, nor am I interested in lame." A beginner's mind, which I am not aware of. Thinking of rainbow vivid and lush greens, carving forced passions of strangers beliefs. Bright sleeked while the sharp of shadows go un-noticed. "I do not fear the dark" So I say. While my eyes were coved to mantic sounds of silences. 'Youth' it was someone said. Bipolar I corrected.