Bipolar Hate - Poem by Heath Chishty
I'm fake, every choice I make is another mistake.
I hate this fate I'll never escape.
My lifes a mess, I do my best to hide all this pain.
I try and try in vain.
When it becomes to much I dropp the ball and begin to fall, on my way down I start to rebound, on my way back up I want to throw up.
Up and down and all around, this is my disease.
This rollercoaster of emotion seems to have a circular motion.
What pain it can bring.
I've severed my ties I'm ready to die.
The fire in my eyes has burntout, I'm about to fallout, so why don't all you people get the hell out, and leave me to my fate, which is to hate and hate and hate....
Comments about Bipolar Hate by Heath Chishty
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You