I don’t want to die, but I could care less
If I did. Neither do I want to live
To see another morning of chaos
On this greedy globe with nothing to give
To all who see the world for what it is,
A poisoned prison. A purgatory
For those like me carrying sins and cysts
Of the unforgotten wrongs from history.
My past squandered without any regard
Of others, of interests or consequence.
Not a thought of how my being would scar
Beyond forgiveness, absent of penance
Or absolution to bury my crimes
My eyes close hoping I’ve run out of time.
Bipolar II Disorder
Current Episode Depressed, Severe