I wash the dishes.
I dry the clothes.
I grant the wishes I don't oppose.
No one sees what I do.
Apparently, it's nothing.
And here I am once again, saying 'I do more than you know'.
But the blame is continuously on me.
The rage fills my body.
I ask to quit.
But I am still here.
The table flips.
I'm still here.
Does the constant need for me to do everything end?
No.
And here I am once again,
Turning struggles into my pen.
YOU ARE READING
What's in front of me
PoetryA collection of free verse poetry inspired by my real life and my struggles with Bipolar Disorder II.
