Bipolar.

It's disgusting, the bitterness
of their words dancing in your ears,
they flow in the air, torturing you,
defining you, ending you.

They make you hate what you love,
they make you despise who you are,
they make you want to kill all your dreams,
they make you tear out your heart.

They make you want to be better,
they make you hope for the light,
they make you believe in their eyes,
they make you remember you are alive.

In the same day you fall down,
battered body and pulverized mind,
they go and pick at your wounds,
make you bleed all they want,
they make you want to paint the world
with happiness, wash away all the shadows,
stay awake just to laugh.

In the same day you want to burn down
your whole world, lay down and hope to die,
their pretense wears a nice scarf, its warmth
brings tenderness and memory loss,
there's no hiding from their eyes,
they're old, twice as heavy as yours,
no right to say 'I know better,
I know myself better',
they cage your mind and swallow the key,
they convince you, 'this who you see,
no shape and no light, this who you see,
helpless, useless and selfish,
this is who you truly are'.

At the end of the day, when there's no
sense of truth and lie, no eyes to see you,
no ears to hear you, one thing keeps you alive,
the precious knowledge, that one day you will die.