the fourth floor

 

I enter the room
straight jacket laced
never thought my mind
could keep up such a torterous pace

 

racing
racing
my mouth cant even keep up
with the words filled inside me
please let loose on the cuffs

 

what did i do wrong
why am i being treated like a criminal
i dont understand
this seems so cynical

 

let me go
please
just let me go

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

18 hours later
i wake up
where the hell am i at
don't know

i feel so much better
slower
but whats going on
won't show

 

the doctor comes in the room
says you have bipolar disorder
but where am I at
as she puts her files in order

 

slowly coming together
the thoughts in my mind
is this really happening to me
seems so refined

 

i head out to the commons
and see such frightening sights to see
i can't call them crazy
because they're just like me

 

so here I am
on the fourth floor
little did I know
this day 10 years ago
still defines me
even more

 

progress I have made
but still struggle in this way
but a better tomorrow
is slowly becoming today...

Reviews

[David Scott]

I love how you ended this poem.
We cannot control a disease. We can control how we fight to be our best self.
Keep fighting for a better tomorrow!