Broken pieces
Cloistered away
(Like monks?)
Deep inside
A rocky stone-face...
causing wrinkles to appear with their weight
causing the eyes to scan, scan, scan the ground
as i shuffle my way, ever walking, everywhere
everywhere around this "beautiful town"
the pieces come out, these nights,
as i try to write and write -
"Here! Let me show you a bit of my frights!"
when i'm around friends and family,
i feel much less of the pieces' pains,
only to be kept awake at night,
as they surface when i'm alone again.
it's so easy to delude myself,
to get sucked in -
thinking i'm a string of failures,
or disease wins...
but i'm not really broken,
i am not simply bipolar...
i am gifted and so much more.
I hope these broken pieces will soften
and my mind will be at ease,
I think I can win this war...
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