Understanding the Brink

This is a poem I wrote when I thought about the things that people say about bi polar disorder when they think no one will care or hear.

You may not understand the things I have to say.
You may not understand that I hear you every day.
So you think that those like me should stay under lock and key.
Or perhaps attention is what we're after.
Pathetic brats, deserving of nothing but your cruel jokes and laughter.
I simply tell myself that you just don't understand.
How could you when you've been spared by fate's cruel hand.
You only see crazy, but all around us the world looks hazy.
You see beautiful life where we see only death.
For you life is a gift, while we struggle for each agonizing breath.
Everyone gets depressed, but they deal with it you say, and you are right everyone may, but have you stopped to think,
what it is like for those of us who live on the brink?
Imagine if you will the death of one whom you hold dear. The pain of their departure still fresh within your hearts.
Everyday we live and breath that pain is fresh, without ever knowing the reason why it starts.
But forgive me, for I am not through, months of endless, suffocating grief, followed by weeks of excitement, for now God is speaking to you.
You start to believe that everything is great, then you laugh at the death of someone that you hate.
Humanity is stolen from you, guilt goes out the window.
You cheat, you steal, your head hardly ever meets a pillow.
Sympathy, empathy, compassion are things you simply cannot feel.
Those that love you just have to deal.
You hurt them every single day, and when they ask you why, you tell them you're going to be an astronaut, so it will all be okay.
With you around no one else can speak, you talk of toads and the highest mountain peak. Five minutes go by and you have mentioned every subject known to man, by the way can you read minds? I can.
When the elation begins to fade, all that is left is the mess that you have made.
You have to face reality, STDs from your promiscuity, a marriage ruined by the same.
You've spent your life savings while you were insane.
Your job is gone, because for weeks you were never there.
Your family is poor, you've spent their money too, and they're just not sure how many times they can forgive you.
Your friends are distant, and afraid, but for you it all happened in an instant.
Yes at a time like this it is normal to get depressed, but for you it is just another day in the life for someone whose mind is in a constant state of unrest.
The never-ending cycle is what takes us down in the end, but contrary to what you may believe we still feel the contempt that you lend.
We are as a group intelligent, but each opportunity that arose, with our sanity came and went.
Imagine if you will, knowing that you will never be capable of being who and what you want to be.
Every hope dashed, every job lost, every dream of the future smashed,
then try to tell your self that being alive is worth the cost.
Tell yourself that suicide is selfish and unkind, when those you love the most are the ones picking up the pieces of the hellish life you left behind.
Don't get me wrong, death is not the answer, but you must understand, that relief for ourselves is not all that we are after.
We are disabled without the benefit of being simple.
We know what we have done, and what we will never do.
We see the pain we have caused all to well, once our mind finally breaks the spell.
So next time bipolar is brought up in conversation, you can really think about the transformation and reason bipolar people sink.
You can think about what life is like for those of us who live on the brink.

Reviews

[Lorraine]

I must say it's quite a handful for a poem. Even so, such passionate writing is commendable. I truly feel the emotions dripping from every line, and you're narration is really on character. I like the way you are telling a story as much as you are proving a point. This kind of writing has a deep perspective and understanding of things.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Libby McKeown]

I enjoyed this piece quite a bit; lots of angst which, of course, I love. I would humbly suggest reducing this...or changing the format. This is an incredibly long poem/rant, and the constructing the words into a rhyimg format is quite a feat, but it kinda adds a silliness to the poem, and I doubt that is your goal. You're angry, now create mystery, and readers will beat down your door to share in the glow of your anger. Overall, great job! Thanks for sharing!