This Is The Real Me

how does one become a poet in a shit hole of existence we run a muck through the give and take of sought through cadence I'm bipolar, suicidial & psychophrenic I've been hospitalized for an extensive stay suffer in silence through depression deep in thought yet in group I seek comfort for being mindful of my actions groping my way through the enterprise days I have panic attacks sweat episodes this is the real me I see two cats at the edge of my bed that aren't there see the eye of the Alan Parsons project on my door I'm manic one moment and bipolar the next take a good shit that I scream inside for help I'm in classes seeking help for my depression was denied social security three times what the fuck am I here for for I exist as a vapor then I am no more lingering, unfolding & loving I have a good heart yet I wear a pamper do to falling shit that comes out my stead I'm wrapped up with emotions yet I'm continuing to play on the one guitar string I'm being dealt. haven't worked since 2015 living off of my mother's help for now I'm telling you the truth this time no sugar coating it.