Manic Melody, Depressing Symphony

I wish I could share

with you

the euphoria I get when

I’m really,

really high

on life.

It feels as if I’m apart from my body.

It’s like a million birds singing with me,

harmoniously.

In my mind, it’s a melody.

A manic melody.

The doctors say this isn’t healthy,

And that my mind is weaponry.

They don’t understand me.

I don’t even understand me.

All I know is that I wouldn’t ever hurt a thing.

Though I may have made my own arm bleed.

The melody starts to scream,

It isn’t harmonious anymore.

But in my mind it’s a symphony.

A depressing symphony.

I’m hurting, but I’m smiling.

Isn’t it concerning?

You would never guess a thing was wrong with me.

Because it’s something you can’t see, it’s something

that goes on within me.

I swallow the pills they give me, but I become a zombie.

The extended release fills my body, and I am no longer me.

I realize this is why I’ve stopped taking the meds they gave me.

They think they stabilize me, but they destroy me.

They change the way I think.

Society wants to mask me, but I just want to be free.

Wouldn’t you just accept me?