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I love too hard,
because I have never
found it easy,
to believe in it.
Love isn't my go to
ingredient for red velvet
cupcakes or the secret
to ending my depression.
I always thought it was
a chemical reaction,
something to end the
bipolar thoughts.
To stop the racing
of the brain, end the
cutting of wrists
that turned into
monkey bread.
After all, I'm bananas in the head
because It's easier than calling me insane,
to show me that my walls
are covered in pink frosting,
that my veins are just the aftermath
of a bad crime scene & my blood is the bottle
of posion used within every Shakespear novel.
The body is used as parchment
paper, my tongue as the pen,
wayward tears for ink,
knitting needles trying
knit my neurons back into
place.
Cause love for me is a high,
it's like being on top of the world.
Never knowing if my love is real
or if my saddnes is a true product
of my emotions.
I never know if
I'm feeling true love
or deep down inside
its fake because highs & lows
never make sense to me.
Somedays I will feel lost,
my depression will be my king,
my bipolar my queen,
& my mixed feelings
my black knight in shining
armor in a gaint chess game
I will never succeed in.
I will have days when I love coffee
& days I'm not sure
If I do; with the same
way I love you.
My heart & mind somedays fight.
The mind saying I don't
& the heart saying I do
but the mind tortures
me to break up with you,
while the heart reminds
me I love you.
My mood changes
like a light switch
as my feelings take
a corner to one
day feeling everything
& to some days feeling
nothing.
My emotions run
its course but a stop
sign never stops them,
a green light never makes
them faster & a yellow
light never slows
them down.
Needing reassurance
comes in waves,
it sparks in my brain
like a sparkler,
waiting to be drowned
with a bucket of holy water.
I hate my emotions.
Even God can see they
aren't good for me.
I try to throw them into
garbage cans, toss them
like toxic waste
because my mood changes
become to much too handle.
They invade my personal
space, make me snort
pixie sticks & rush my brain
to feel like its on pure sugar
as though I have sugar plum
faries pulling at every part
of my brain.
Its like I'm another fairytale
thats too hard to love,
another love story that loves too hard,
that became a tradgey because in this one
the princess is the product
of insanity.
I am just another evil queen,
that was a princess that was never
saved because love has always been
a second too late.
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