Scares and stresses, moods and messes.
You have left me for dead with only my breath to save my body.
You will me to fight with the public, when I don't want to fight with anyone.
Your desire would be that I hide away, shelter and shudder.
Bipolar disease you are a disease which pleases to make my mind like a sieve - in with the new thoughts, keeping the horrendous thoughts to swirl around, and letting the good thoughts pass through, never touching ground. Oh, disease, you freeze me when I want to decide, you place a space between those I want to touch, you erase feelings of joy, love and devotion. You eat my soul, piece by piece. And I am sweet, so you enjoy me.
That freezes my blood in the veins. But WOW! You have SUCH a talent for writing!
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