And if this poem isn’t a perfect example of rapid-cycling mixed-state bipolar, I’ll eat my hat: “Temporary Insanity”
I’m picking up the pieces of
my shattered personality.
The mirror is the image of
a fractured, broken mind.
THe fabric of reality
is ripped to hell and gone. I sit
alone with eyes squeezed shut; I know
I’m simply going crazy.
I don’t know who I am, you see
a crisis of identity.
I’m rhyming, though; how can this be?
I scream out loud, “No more!”
I can’t control the words I say
Much less control my manic life
I think I’ve really lost it now;
I want to find a knife!