Perhaps
you've wondered
what’s up with me,
why I’m blue some days,
other times electric yellow,
why I talk too fast
or not at all,
why I cry,
then laugh,
then cry again.
You may have been puzzled
by my sometimes strangeness,
about what makes me tick.
The fact is,
I always tell the correct time;
all you have to do is ask.
Since you asked...
I have a disorder,
or two,
or three.
I have bipolar, you see,
and I get the rollercoaster
that comes with it.
The only questions are:
how steep the climb,
how fast the fall?
I’m not crazy
(I avoid the “C” word.):
I have an illness
(I’m not that illness.):
I take my meds
(two blue and three white) .
I lead a normal life,
whatever “normal” means.
I no longer feel
the stigma of being different.
I am as I am.
There you have it,
the skim of my truth.
Now you know about me;
what’s your story?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem