Bipolar

 

You never know when it’s going to hit. 


The bipolar disorder storm. 


You can’t control it. 


Even explain it. 


It defies gravity. 


Insanity. 


Should I just lock myself up?


Throw away the key for eternity?


Because I cannot cope when hope flies out the only open window around. 


Clowns everywhere laughing at me. 


Can’t they see the absurdity?


Or do they just not care that they are scaring me with their upside down painted-on frowns?


Is there anyone out there other than Jesus and my son that love me for crazy me?


Speak up please. 

Or forever hold your peace. 


And stop judging. 


Fudging. 


Lunging. 








I’m 

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