I Feel

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My eyes burn with the on coming tears

Face bright red

Puffy and a little swollen

Breathing off-balance

and my heart beat

going a mile a minute

banging against my chest

Stomach in knots

nauseous and tired

Shaking randomly

not being able to control it

I sit curled in a ball

trapped in this instance

of unwanted clarity

fixed in a trance

that does not want to end

Weak, I feel

Dead, I feel

 

For more poetry and prose, check out The Good, The Bad & The Ugly: The Struggle of Being Bipolar

 

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