How Is It Fair??

birdsDarkness

How is it fair?

I never knew I would love…

Dream, or Breathe,

The way I do You.

Can I sleep in peace?

I never knew I would hope,

Cry, or pray for dreamless nights,

The way I do because of you.

How is it Fair…

To be buried above ground,

where sadness surrounds,

And to be uncomfortable in your own skin?

How is it fair…

You’re buried six feet down.

Sleeping so peaceful, so sound…

And I can’t be found in the world

You are in?

How is it fair??

©thebipolarmuse2003

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** Written many many years ago after the death of my ex-boyfriend, Fiance at one point in time… by his own hand.

Suicide is NEVER the answer. If you or someone you know are contemplating suicide, please reach out for help. Suicide hotlines offer a caring ear, and also have many resources to direct one in the right direction for help. You are not alone in your feelings… remember, this too shall pass and suicide is a permanent, destructive choice that cannot be taken back. Seek help. Choose life. ♥

Call 1-800-273-8255 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

I Fear Not The Night~

MoonOnWater

I fear not the night anymore, but the silence that accompanies the sun.

I would enjoy waking to the moon instead… the stars my guide…

My erratic mood lulled by the moons tide.

The stars and night like a very close friend.

Instead, I follow the masses, wake by the sun,

With only a few hours to rest my weary head.

Depression has begun.

Too much time to dwell, anxiety to swell,

To beg for peace; to forget the times,

I have truly failed.

I want to run, be free… follow my heart…

Flee…

To my loves.

I fear not the night anymore, but the silence…

that accompanies the sun.~

©thebipolarmuse2011

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Going through not having custody of my children has always been very difficult for me. I battle severe depressions over all lifes precious moments I cannot get back.

Poetry helps me to tame the monster, it is a form of therapy for me… helps me create bipolar Order.

The Muses

theMuses

The Muses

They whisper in my ear.

In reverence, I stare…

As words fall…

from their golden sweet lips,

To paper, in pieces and bits.

~~~

The Muses…

Their eyes show me a story.

They ask not for recognition, nor glory.

Their words storm to life in my heart…

Indeed flutter about my mind.

Created to be shared… Never held as mine.

 

©thebipolarmuse2018

 

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This poem is one of my very favorite that I have written. Simple, yet such imagery is provoked.

Please do not use without permission to do so. If you would like to use it, please use the “Contact Me” page to send me an email.

Thank you for reading… ♥

Beauty and Catastrophe

haunting

Enchanting.

Haunting.

Dwelling in here is beauty and catastrophe…

limitless imagination…

bountiful frustration.

The moon resides more often than the sun.

An enticing tide,

Poetic ride.

The beast finds me no matter where I run.

Power finds me,

controls me, elicits behaviors

exceeding the one I call me.

Seraphs in heaven weep and pound

their fists…

Even they in their bliss,

can’t bring me peace.

Even I, being on bent knees,

Peace eludes me.

©thebipolarmuse August 2011