Bipolar

In shadows deep where silence dwells,?Three tiny hearts weave whispered spells,?They dance in dreams with eyes of light,?Unaware of the encroaching night. A father’s laughter, a guiding hand,?Now echoes faint like steps on sand,?Bipolar’s grasp, a stormy tide,?Tore through their world, their gentle guide. He wore his smile like a fragile mask,?And fought the demons, a daunting task,?Yet in the depths where darkness lay,?Hope flickered dim, then slipped away. Three little souls with burdens to bear,?Searching for comfort, they linger and stare,?At photographs faded, of moments so bright,?Now veiled by the shadows, consumed by the night. Why did he leave? They question and cry,?As tears spill softly like stars in the sky,?They gather the pieces, the fragments of love,?And look for his spirit, with hope from above. But deep in their hearts, the absence remains,?Tangles of sorrow, of loss and of pains,?Yet amidst the heartache, a promise they keep,?To honor his memory, in laughter and leap. For though he has vanished, his love still entwines,?In every soft whisper, in sunlight that shines,?Three young children, though burdened and scarred,?Will carry his light, their beacon, their guard. And while the world spins with its chaotic sway,?They'll find their own voices, chase shadows away,?Together they'll rise, with hearts brave and true,?In the name of their father, they'll learn to renew.