Long Bipolar disorder Poems
Long Bipolar disorder Poems. Below are the most popular long Bipolar disorder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bipolar disorder poems by poem length and keyword.
“Fear whispers worry into your ear, anxiety into your hopes and doubt into your faith… Love whispers hope and peace” – by poet
With a brain washed pale
By voices thundering
Silent screams echoing through me
Clearing away the debris
Of disappointment and disillusionment
My mind darkened on a clear night
No stars twinkled through my thoughts
And the blaze of my heart
Was smothered beneath the darkness
That was like a consuming fire
Shooting flames through my mind
Resonating fear and doubt
Clouding my soul with black suspicion
Breaking away all the hope and faith
Pouring disgust through my veins
Marking the way for desolation
Despair and waves of guilt
That sauntered across my emotions
Coloring me in hues of gray
Bipolar disorder screamed
Beneath a mask of whispers
And I cried – tears of desperation
Tears that flowed out of me
Relentless, unceasingly
And I prayed for peace
That only God could bring to me
Philippians 4:7 (King James Version) And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
March 23, 2021
In your eyes I am my illness; it’s all that you can see
I lack the courage that is needed to take root and grow me
Is it my bipolar disorder or anxiety that you fear?
That keeps you holding on so tight, you’re strangling me my dear
I’m grateful for your care while I convalesced
In your eyes you need to heal me, but I just needed rest
Feeling like half a person with you lying in your bed
I must be moving on from you, I know I’m being led
In your eyes the sickness is the only reason
You’re reminded of my brokenness and of all my demons
When I’m with you in nothingness my voice doesn’t make a sound
I secretly share myself with strangers when you’re not around
I cannot be my best with you and stand on my own feet
I must find my own meaning, I have challenges I must meet
I’m busting out; I’m breaking free of the doubts that have holds on me
I’m taking all my baggage; it’s time I set us free
They treated me for bipolar disorder.
I wanted you to know.
Although the doctors later said
it was the Adipex-p and weed
mimicking
an up-and-down disease—
it hasn’t happened since.
I still think it was more than that.
Hard to believe
it’s been more than twenty years—
that fourth of July,
when I read your mind at the Washington Mall,
and ran off to watch fireworks
alone in the grass.
It was wet, and I could tell—
you thought I was magic.
You walked toward me
Christmas morning in the summer evening,
said, didn't think I’d ever find you.
You can see how the backdrop
of that moment conspired
to spell out fate: the night
convincing,
the air exploding in support of it,
I came to—
in a hospital,
you still looked like Clark Gable,
but your mythical gait
was just a limp—
you’d played baseball in college.
My ESP had just been synapses
cracking communal phrases inside my skull,
masquerading as serendipity
in wolf's clothing.
all of it—
an embarrassment.
You stopped returning
my messages, after I underlined
phrases at random
in a Chicago weekend newspaper,
then tried to get you to believe
with me.
I drew a picture of Ganesha
in the margins as further evidence
of our destiny as gods.
When the mind starts shuffling
everything it's ever touched
with Vegas-dealer speed,
it doesn’t take much to get to
a version of the story where we're Holy.
You could’ve easily taken advantage,
but you didn’t. I think you knew
I’d have let you.
Wish you were here.
Wild with unbounded energy tonight,
I eschew my med's; but I soon then hear
the frightful voices trumpet in my ear;
they haunt me into the stillness of night
as I transform into a monstrous sight
(a version of myself which I most fear,
and dread, as mania befalls me). Dear
God! why am I accursed with this dire plight!?
Life with bipolar disorder feels tragic,—
it's like a trial by fire, a hard test:
sometimes this dark disease makes me frantic
with madness, rapture, and profound unrest
so vile that I become full-blown manic;
then I am overwhelmed, and feel unblest!
problems are many
but with the pen my problems are semi
living life one page at a time
trying to stay in a straight line
consider me after you know my problems
with God I’m stronger, and my mind softens
he makes me not a monster
helping me to be somewhat smarter
was south bound straight to a dark place
was going north erasing my mind staying in space
counting the pain in chronological order
defining my bipolar disorder
flip a switch and I see red
unrational fears in my head
pouring my soul to a higher power
time after time my prayers got louder
sometimes crying in mental pain
but my reasons are not in vain
never really showing emotion
because inside I know something is broken
but not all is lost
man if it was not for god my life would be tossed
realization is the key to empowerment
and empowerment is the key to betterment
until I’m gone and over
I remain a soldier
Polar.
I was in the prime of my life on paper, I had
a lot to live for.
I came from a loving family, that were educated
I myself graduated with honors from Harvard.
I had an amazing fiance that I adored very
much,
However I was a phenomenal actress that
was very sick.
I had bipolar disorder and I hid it from everyone
including my family.
When I was high I was high, but when I was low
I was extremely low.
I thought about death every second and hour
of day.
I couldn't shake it , did I want to die?
Of course not but I felt like I had no choice
It was something that I had to do.
I planned the whole thing, I even picked
out my theme music on that melancholy
day.
I craved death and I was thirsty for it,
I wanted my death to remembered as
something beautiful.
Boy was I in for a rude awakening and a
big dose of reality.
When my loving man found my lifeless
body he wailed and convulsed,
He caused me to see that love does
not die.
But I didn't plan what he did next
He went and got the gun we had for
protection and took his own life.
I replay that scene over and over in my
head.
For I am stuck in between life and death,
It is pure hell and it is torture and far
worse than it was when I was alive.
Inspired by the “Death” contest
5-17-18
People are still hurting because of the blow they've been dealt.
Sadly, you decided to end it all by hanging yourself with your belt.
You suffered from Bipolar Disorder and Depression, that wasn't a good combination.
People are very sorry that you died, your death has brought about devastation.
You starred in many movies, Popeye was your very first.
Your death was so horrible, to me it feels like a curse.
In 1991 when you starred in Hook, you portrayed Peter Pan.
Eight years later you starred as a robot in Bicentennial Man.
You entertained us when you portrayed Patch Adams and when you starred in House Of D.
You also astounded us with your performances in MRS. Doubtfire and RV.
Your performances were unique and extraordinary.
They were outstanding, they sure weren't ordinary.
Everybody knows that your acting was a wonderful contribution to mankind.
It will be a long time before your wife, kids and fans can find peace of mind.
[Dedicated to Robin Williams (1951-2014) who died on August 11, 2014.]
Disconnected
No judging
No touching
No talking about feelings
No friendliness or greetings
No physical contact
Just a massive contrast
No eye contact
Just lost context
Every word is spoken in a flat dull monotone way
Stepping on egg shells to avoid mind decay
Like speaking to a different person
Who is going deeper into immersion
OCD flares, fear of spreading dust and germs
All done in order checked to confirm
Terrified of the things that arent there
Realising life is cruel and not fair
What is real and what is not
Inside the head it could be a plot
It’s just an illness accompanied by a shadow
Thought process cloud and narrow
Feeling unsafe inside crawling skin
Mind in a spin knowing it’s all within
Another’s fears isolate those around
Trying to assist and help you feel the ground
Their mental health affects others
Patiently waiting until you recover
Ideas and logic shot down hard
No care for other just disregard
No advice taken just more grief given
Trying to keep you safe without recognition
No love or friendship
Just words to break companionship
Only hate and sadness
A black hole with no happiness
Misery rippling through every phase
Every calm and decisive moment eyes glaze
Attempting to help you through
Meanwhile enduring the hatred you spew
The nature of this is just temporary
Every soul destroying phase necessary
Remembering this isn’t a personal attack
Just your demon shadow fighting back
The shadow is afraid of when you take control
Of when regain your mind and soul
A day a week a month or more
Life will not return to what is was before
Scars are left on the surface and deep
Knowing one day the shadow returns to critique
Every time they reappear you become disconnected
Every time you feel defected
The only thing defective it’s the disconnection
It spreads like a disease or infection
Talk and ask for support
Don’t get lost in your own thought
I will be here for you every single time
Some communication and it will all be fine