Poems about yourself

I am a blade With gritty hands, you grab me upside down Abusing me, but with good intentions You slash away at heavy air and stab the brick wall. Although seemingly useless, your demons run in fear. With gritty hands, you grip me again upside down You abuse me, but I know you're not to blame You slash away again and again through your opposer's clothes. You are sanguine and happy to punish. I know it's not your fault, but it fucking hurts bitch.

So Much Swag All Taken up By me So Much Swag It’s kinda Hard to Breathe

My Castle has become My Prison The walls that make my castle, were built by my own hand, Built to protect myself inside, from a world I cant understand. From a world that never understood me, or ever gave a care, so these walls went up in a hurry, within the depths of my despair. I fortified their foundations, and built them stone by stone, Never realizing all along, that they would leave me all alone. When someone tried to get in, I felt I was under attack, And so I’d build another wall, to push them further back. But now when I stand upon the ramparts, all I see within my gaze, Is an infinite expanse of walls, like a never ending maze. This maze doesn’t lead to the middle, or even from the middle out, Just a barrage of constant dead ends, that make me cry and shout. I didn’t want it to end like this, I just didn’t want to feel the pain, But now my castle has become my prison, and I’m dying here in vain.

From darkness doth light shine through, for now I see. Mine burdens art lifted. Though I toil in fear I hath been freed. Acceptance of thine truth I hath been gifted. Life forever is mine to keep.

Roses are red Violets are blue If I had a brick I would throw it at you

Alone Mine soul press forward Each step closer on path Surrounded by none as I reach wayward Forgotten am I, a life filled from wrath.

So I have bipolar and I wrote this to help explain to people what it's like to have rapid cycling bipolar type 1; seems like a perfect thread to share lmao Imagine, for a minute, what it means to be active Your engine in your brain is pumping out many actions Distractions, while they’re a thing, don’t mess up your interactions Passions, those being imagined or examined, are your psychological cannon And then snap Nothing suddenly makes a lick of sense anymore Pumping motivation thick in your mind helped before, Buzzing your senses fails even as you’re on the floor Discussing in your head your meaning; what do you live for? And then snap Life seems as if it’s back, or is it? It is strange. Inner strife isn’t your goal, but your dreams are in range. Like a knife, you begin to cut through life’s interchange Dreaming about that highlife, your obsession’s deranged And then snap What the heck just happened? Your emotions are gone. Clear cut dreams and goals vanish as if they were cons But how? It was in your grasp! You need to hold on! Cut the shit. You’re nothing more than a disgusting spawn.