As a manic-depressive, my manias would have the curious ability to bend, twist and warp my perception of reality and self to usually pathological and detrimental extremes that have easily landed me in a mental hospital more than once when I was a youth. Today, older and much wiser, I am medication-compliant and therefore stable where I can function and spend my time reading; ennobling and edifying my mind; and composing poetry (for my own enjoyment and self-therapy).

————

Wild with unbounded energy tonight,

I eschew my med's until I can hear

the frightful voices trumpet in my ear,

now haunting me into the dead of night

as I transform into a monstrous sight;

a version of myself that I most fear

when mania overtakes me—oh, dear

God! Why am I accursed with this dire plight!?

Life with bipolar disorder is tragic—

it's like a trial by fire, a hard test:

at times, this dark disease makes me frantic

with madness, rapture, and profound unrest

that's so vile that I go full-blown manic—

then I am overwhelmed and feel unblest!

By Ngoc Nguyen

From: United States