Slip into my soul.
Save my nights from
the horde.
It’s four in the
morning.
Save me from the
nightmarish dreams.
Blow the winds of
change.
Stir my soul.
Save me, save me,
don’t let me go.
Hold me, hold me, and
don’t let me go home.
Test my mind.
Free my soul, don’t
let them get me.
It’s six in the
morning.
I haven’t been to
sleep.
I worry about things
like wood nymphs and water sprites.
They were dancing,
singing, stirring in the night.
Yet they were not the
cause of my night terrors.
Lies and deceit are
the cause of it all.
If I come clean my
soul will rest.
No more spirits evil
or good.
No more lies of being
strapped to my bed.
No more spikes tacked
to my heart.
I have broken free of
my shackles.
Now it’s a thing were I confess and find peace.
This poem is pretty clear about my mental anguish that I go though. I hate that many people with bipolar or other mental illness crave basic human needs and can't have them because inside our heads there's this thing that gnaws at us and wants to destroy us from the inside out.