Hate is a strong word. It wields an ugly power I don’t care to tap into, but right now I hate bipolar. I effing hate it. I hate what it does to my beautiful son. I hate what it does when it rears it’s ugly head and cycles through our home like an unyielding tornado, leaving destruction in its wake.
Tornadoes appear and disappear so quickly, there’s no time to prepare, to take shelter. No time to shield yourself, and then they are gone as quickly as they came.
They never even look back at the damage they’ve done . . . they just move on.
I hate bipolar.
Rage lashes
unexpected
unprovoked
gnashing teeth
claws extended
striking blindly
Distorted thought
unbridled emotion
strike
strike
strike
and then . . .
Silence.
Breathe.
It curls up
in the debris
Purring, it sleeps
cradled
in your arms
I remember a lady in our home group who was bipolar. She hated her meds and when she went off them, she drove naked, spent all her money, and got arrested. Her life was a shambles. I hate what happened to her. What a nightmare.
LikeLike
Beautiful poem for a very destructive matter. I hope you find a way to make things improve.
LikeLike
Beautiful poetry but I hate that you have it to write.
LikeLike
I hate the hell outa bipolar too.
LikeLike
I love the verse. I am sorry for your son’s struggles. lily
LikeLike