Fault

A poem about the depressive phase of bipolar and both the loneliness and helplessness it incurs.

On my knees

Hands bent under me

Filled with an unease

The wind rustles through the trees

I’m on my knees

I’m still in this breeze

Don’t leave a kiss,

My cheeks are wet with tears

Do you mind the salt?

Do you mind my God given fault?

That’s what I thought.