(This is one of the couple of thousand poems I’ve written about being bipolar.   Out of those thousands, this one is probably the least TMI. This one was an attempt, on my part, to explain why I decided to stop medicating myself.)

I have no more 2 a.m. demons

pushing words through my soul

No madness to create poetry

on sheet after page of escape

No more hours of contemplation or

freedom wrapped between my thighs

Nothing to purge into metaphor

And nothing left to say

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