Sometimes I have these powerful, sensual feelings of empowerment. Bathed in a self fulfilling prophecy that I am love and light. I am the keeper of joy. Brought here to espouse the wonders of bliss. The journey is ours. I hold your hand and wipe the tear from your eye. Go forth my child in brilliance I shall be watching over you.
Yet, sometimes I flail in the darkness. Unable to find reason and purpose for my existence. My wings clipped and thrown aside. Any angelic auspices I might have once felt are smashed. Bits of my heart, soul and mind float along the painful abyss of bipolar disorder.
The cavernous fall seemingly came quick, but did it? Blinded once again by magnificent mania. Light footsteps carried me over the bridge of desire. Heavy hearted I can no longer rise. The magic of fast paced, bright colored, illustrious circumstance disappeared. I am left picking up the pieces to a timeless puzzle. Different day. Different me. Sense of self forever lost in the maze of uncertainty.
As I settle into the madness, a hopelessness so profound takes hold. Opening my eyes at dawn or at all takes such precious energy. Hours turn into days into weeks. All unbeknownst to me. The constant shadow is a forecast. In darkness I shall always remain. Until the manic fever causes shivers up and down my spine once again.
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