Manic-Depression

TaJuan is an aspiring writer hoping to gain experience and growth through publishing passionate works, like this one, online for the world.

Mania

I am flying

No fear of dying

Smiling

Bold and unwavering

Luxury, favoring

Invincible

For a bit

Sadness is fictional

Mythical

Happiness like a sixth sense

Energy intense

Dispense money

Let the debt party commence

Thoughts

Race, race, race, race, race

God

Please shed me some grace

Because You’re the one who put me in this position in the first place

The worst state

Disguised as the best

I am not blessed

Let me be real and organic

This smile is a symbol of suffering

For, I am manic

Panic I will not

Like, if I could

I would

But I can’t

I already took the leap

Now my feet

Are floating in the air

Without a care

On the entire planet

Granted, gravity will manage

To defeat me

Then depression will then beat me

Down

Now, people always question how bad could it be

Honestly,

“Aren’t I just happy”

That be

The cruelest joke

So let me

Clear the smoke

Yes, mania is dangerous

Think of it as taking angel dust

A beautiful time

For a time

Until it isn’t

Now you’re trapped in a hellish prison

Of your own creation

A sick celebration

Though it feels like you’re flying

You pray for the fall

Which is saying something

Because once you hit the ground

The pain

Is the worst of all

Depression

Chained down by the weight of my suffering,

I lay in the darkness,

My only comfort,

For the light disgusts me,

So do all of the aspects in my life.

On these days,

I’m barely human.

I don’t eat,

Nor do I drink,

I don’t deserve it.

I barely deserve to sleep,

But the restlessness left me weeks ago.

I mindlessly scroll through my phone

Like a machine.

I look at old pictures of my smile

And think,

“How?

How was I able to produce something so beautiful,

So elegant?”

As I lay there,

The embodiment of ugliness.

When the pain sourced in my mind reaches an apex,

I paint.

I paint jagged lines.

My arm:

My only canvas.

Crimson red:

My only color.

The knife:

My only brush.

I also play games.

Most popular,

The blaming game.

I blame God and His plan

For putting me in this situation.

I blame my parents and their genes

For providing the sickness.

But most importantly,

I blame myself

For no reason whatsoever.

Self worth depleted,

Fear of death conquered,

I yearn for an escape from this hell.

Almost as much as I yearn to be saved.

Someone,

Anyone,

Save me from my mind.

Please,

Save me from myself,

Before…

I don't know.

I don’t even have the will

To finish this

Poem.