Bipolar Disorder poems bring the best collection of short and long bipolar disorder poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great bipolar disorder rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these bipolar disorder poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on bipolar disorder are here for you.
The problems she has are real soft fronds of fruiting vines lick up the tears from her forehead each wonders which is upside right earlier she was harried into the rental car wishing only to idle but parents have a
Bipolar Disorder is a strongly built conglomerate of depression and mania that yet fails to monopolize on the brain of it’s victim when under medication. Medication to bipolar disorder is like an audit; closely inspected, then revised when an error
Caught up in chores dreary beset with tedium mundane In a state devoid of passion caught in all trivialities inane Sapped of most evident ardor whilst trying to just sustain Endeavors notwithstanding but balance couldn’t maintain Removed from indulgences I
My mind is a place, and often I’m told Those who would venture are far more than bold Vast twisting caverns of darkness and light Thoughts in a jumble with no wrong or right Fear and disorder, perfection and truth
In the most unusual manic-panic creep, Wildly lurking behind every corner, The Shadow was about to recover some ungraspable but always constantly desired idea.. A fantasy, a darker shade of fantasy: a fun fetish. Or, perhaps, could it be foolish
The name, went begging to yield. Dispute was becoming a point of disorder. A fire on ice, I was burning inside. Unabated, the storm was raging in bush. The candor was lost. We were drying up in shade. One eccentric
Between the tremors falls the face in a glass of water. Sometimes false teeth reverberate through the pages of history; devastation sinks in. A faun rubs the landscape. Hatchlings come out when death-music stops. A miracle tends to quieten the
flirting with fire blowin it up in the most earnest desire her perfume was led to basement blues remove those shoes bask in the news then you will se a falsified game of reality in society we got hidden games
There was a time when I sat still. Soaking in unavoidable truth. Choosing instead to sit and bathe in a world of thought. The sun peeked through the window, concerned by the calmness that struck my lips. A sudden grip
Oh, to be a sad balloon… and sail the wayward wind alone To leave this troubled world behind, embark upon the vast unknown Yet somewhere.. I can hear the soulful song that loneliness intones I realize that there are things
Forged while in utero (the crucible concocting conception), the fluke of biology begat me – a happy go lucky boy, whose vulnerable uber travails susceptibly sprung sly as Tennessee Williams hip cat on a hot tin roof, where the faux
They said something was wrong with my mind Treating my “disorder” like a disease, how could they have been so blind? It was never that simple, the problem lurked deeper Never mind the blood and tears, it lay within the
Monologue of a monolith to live in a moment was futile. A young house was in disorder. Not listening, I would find the missing links. Grey ash to be smeared on forehead in horizontal lines for shifting the planets. The
It was midnight moon cruising in the bedroom. I step aside in the depressed window, watch the overwhelming spillover. I listen, then do not listen to alien voices of bipolar beings, speaking Aryan, artfully in cryptic signs crunching the bones.
She gets up, coerced in her stark layers of imagination She gets up, from the wind that brings, this and from her own receding name What is she? A soul fashioned from collapsing ideas or merely a reflection? Reflection of
I long for lost horizons, for castles in the dale For wise and mighty dragons, and painted ships that sail For wizards in the towers and kings upon the throne Enchanted swords a-blazing, swift arrows straight and long I long
I saw tombstones Some ornate , others plain. All had a story hidden Of fulfilment and emptiness. Death is a leveller And makes us realise All are equal Even if born amidst riches. The journey from cradle to grave Is
Strangers from incident, lies for distance, pitfalls of living infrequent, Rushes of sympathy pass over like fever sweat. In concurrent motion the wolves swarm on the lifeless carcass. Impending emotions fill the hole in my stomach, my chest continues to
Struggle is life’s way of strengthening it… yet because of it I’m stuck in a bottomless pit. Everything’s gone, truly nobody left… a few that once cared now all think I’m a pest. All that was left was a tiny
Last night I dreamed but not of Manderlay. It was instead of the Oak Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield where death evokes life. The moon bathed everything with its silvery beams making it easy to find my way through row upon
That dark and lurking shadow With its looming sense of gloom The overpowering pain it could bestow Tearing into laughter and relations, slow That dark and lurking shadow Which so sullies the spark of life Casting an eclipse of endless
I couldn’t stop loving you; Though every time I tried. It’s because whenever I needed you; Every time you were by my side. Roses were painted red; And sky was painted blue. But my life was dyed; With the lovely
There was no beginning no ending. Beyond tomorrow you will be, what you were not. Words would disappear, only meaning will be left. The interval ceases to be from ’wasness’ to open pathway. When you are not ready I will
It all started when my mother left me, I started to feel empty. Days passed by, weeks slowly fading months began hating me emotionally. Years and even decades swept suddenly, My mind said to stop this agony. I started to
The flesh was putting up a brave dialogue. I was willing to play the game. Stunned, shocked, pleasantly sore basking in heat of silk throat, I asked the needles to go ahead and stitch the wounds without loss of blood.
Like rains in spring they came to us A blessing they were to us Like extra-terrestrials we treated them Not knowing that all they wanted was to help We always turned our backs on them Our right hand they were
The night that breeds dark clouds of rankling dolour Within azure sky of my mind’s great earth, Delusive affection of thine enlivened fervour, Of joy of life and lustre triggers dearth. Thou rememb’rest those fragrant ways trodden, Back i’th’ longest
When I look at the 2 pair of eyes, I wonder about the perception. What are the adjectives used, What are the defining values? Given the negative light, Of a self-image, And the ka-ching, Ominously amiss, I wonder, if the
The concerned crow above me poised on a green green tree and i may be asked anything ; we have all answers-something to tell, as only expected from those concerned -something to tell. caw caw caw caw with me and
Lying in the dark, Waiting for the light. The sun never rose, And the days intertwine. The void that grows, Gets wider all the time, And I’m lying here, Waiting, waiting for you. You, You are my light, You are
Living on margin he was deceived again. A grasshopper was perched on door shedding green pigment. Granary was empty and he was, worried about the health of nation. Glare and splendor always hurt his eyes. In the name of prosperity,
In a school of murder a hub of terror survives. An acid attack on face captures the contradictions of first nervous countdown. Step aside my truth, my tears are under siege. The schizophrenic will draw a landscape of falling earth.