MaxOp's Lyricism Poet Rhyme

Illness of Mind

The whit of peeve groans 
   slopes & rise, 
     slopes & rise as looping voices under disguise, 
heave of raving voiced begrudge,  

slopes & rise these inward knolls 
burden streaming brooks 
                       and un-foraged load,  

so far, the mile, path to uneasy soul,  

therein mirage fairing inward ethos’ 
grave starved quieting the mocking groans; 
                      in the real, not so. 

O suffering, 
those unconscious woes’  
deprave, hast wander’d thorough. 

Still I sleep. Still I dream. 

Whilst dormant conjures probe 
tiniest relate with ancient lunatics, 
                                         inward hidden.

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Andrea Dietrich March 30, 2026 at 9:15 PM Very deep one and you described well how mental illness slopes and rises! It reminds of bipolarism. I sadly have known several people that deal with that one