Maybe If I Wasn't Bipolar Anymore

Not my best, but here goes.

I wish I could reach inside

my emptiness...

so young it was at the start,

played out like a tune, it was,

until I part.

so these veins, how cumbersome they became.

Loose trickling of a dead end world

lived she,

and...

if I could touch her again;

I'd try to rid her of her

additives:

drugs, the works,

and yet

you'd think these loose ends

on such a young soul sung high

could beat the clever out of me

when I am the one

so clinging

to the soul.