Bipolar

Mr. Doctor Boy,

not quite man,

Can you show me

how to change the chemical composition of my brain?

Can you take authority

and claim to know how to cure me?

Mr. Doctor Boy,

Didn’t your father teach you

how to arrange dopamine and serotonin

in the correct orders?

Tell me of noradrenaline,

norepinephrine,

help me understand,

Mr. Doctor Boy,

be a man and fix me.


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“What’s Wrong”

This was not meant to be an elaborate, descriptive, beautiful poem. It was just meant to be real.

 

I’ve been trying to figure out how

to describe this to you for so long.

It was only after a million “I don’t know’s,”

that I realized you can’t explain it,

you just have to understand it.

And even those who understand,

may not comprehend it enough to

tell you how it feels. All I can say

is it is not pleasant.