His name is Anxiety, Depression, and Bipolar

Another break, another
hospitalization, another headache
another medication, another self-help book
another stone is thrown into the brook.

I’m held in captivity, my brain
is the warden. Erratic and
impulsive. He strikes and
blames. Pushes and shames.
He’s the devil on my left with
the angel on my right in
the fiery palm of his hand, he
speaks poetically to her.
Deludes her. Deceives her.
Seduces her and misleads her.
She is his, as am I. The
good and the reason, swallowed
by his blaze. Consumed and spit
out for display, a reminder of
my desolate captivity. A site
of my slaughtered hope.

He goes by the names Anxiety
and Depression. Some days he’s
called Bipolar Disorder, but with
the utmost discretion. Prescription
after prescription is released and
discharged in this never-ending war.
Some will make him concede, others
will give him more power. A trial
and error that will eventually lead
to one or the other getting
devoured. I’ll just have to
wait and see which it will be.

-Adeline Marie


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