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Literature Text
Waking in the dead of night
Wondering about my life
All the things I've left undone
How did things go so wrong
I lay here drenched in sweat
Haunted by the old regrets
Trying to stay awake
Frightened by my dreamscape
Stay up until the dawn
Go to work with face drawn
I struggle on through the day
People curiously glance my way
I finally make my way home
Wait for the cycle to go on
Wondering about my life
All the things I've left undone
How did things go so wrong
I lay here drenched in sweat
Haunted by the old regrets
Trying to stay awake
Frightened by my dreamscape
Stay up until the dawn
Go to work with face drawn
I struggle on through the day
People curiously glance my way
I finally make my way home
Wait for the cycle to go on
Literature
Pretty Blue Pills
Pretty blue pills,
shiny in my palm,
the ticket to my peace,
to my eternal calm.
They're so perfectly round,
and soon they'll be in me.
The closest to perfect
that I'll ever be.
They go down so smooth.
Five, ten, fifteen and twenty.
Soon I'll be gone.
Twenty-five and Thirty.
That should be enough,
but I'll play it safe.
Thirty-five and forty.
Now I have no more to take.
The bottle is empty,
as empty as I feel.
None of this is happening,
too good to be real.
But soon I start to drift
into a dark unknown fog.
Somewhere quite distantly.
I hear a muffled sob.
But I blow it off as fake.
Nobody could possibly care.
I doubt anyone's noticed
th
Literature
Bipolar Disorder
Look over your shoulder. They're watching you.
Tighten your stomach muscles.
Bounce your leg up and down.
Faster.
Faster.
"Are you okay?"
No.
"I'm fine."
Shut up.
Don't say anything.
Feel it, feel the thoughts melting from your mind.
Freeze.
Stare.
Laugh.
"What are you doing?"
Dying.
"Nothing."
They're behind you.
Kill them before they kill you.
"What's wrong?"
Please save me.
"Nothing."
Crazy. You're crazy.
No one wants you.
Pull the trigger.
Do it.
"Please tell me what's wrong."
You wouldn't understand.
"Nothing."
Laugh.
Smile.
Scream.
"Who are you? I don't know you anymore."
I'm a nobody.
I am Bipolar Disorder.
... "I don't know.
Literature
We Poets Are Frustrated...
We Poets Are Frustrated...
I am sure that you have all experienced this feeling:
A masterpiece eclipsed by the baying of a brat!
A raucous rhyme, so emotionally raw;
Shadowed by a child's melancholia...
Alone in the darkness, you lick your lips and growl.
Your anger, so evidently understandable; yet you forget your own abilities!
In despair, my dearest sibling, you have forgotten — yourself
Why fear an obstacle so easily overcome?
Why shred your works with such heavy tears?
Have you forgotten that we are the original craftsman?
Our tongues birthed as our chisels and axe!
We need only take these simple themes
And corrupt them with all
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not conventional, but have you tried marijuana