I can’t sleep

Mind racing

I’ll call in sick in the morning 

I don’t want to lose my job

I just want to stay in bed

My affliction 

A thorn on my side

For years 

I get like that sometimes 

Where I stay in bed all day

I don’t tell anyone 

People will talk

Once the secret is out

I can’t put it back in the box

That’s the problem

People judge

I hurt alone

I suffer alone

It gets really bad sometimes 

It can drag on for weeks

I can’t predict exactly 

Each time is different 

That’s the thing with

Mental illness

It’s in control

I’m just along for the ride

I never know when I’ll get off

Or if I’ll get off

There’s nothing physically

Wrong with me

That’s nice to know

I couldn’t tell

I wouldn’t want a big 

Zit on my face

That’d be devastating 

Mental illness is frowned

Upon where I come from

As if I choose to be sick

Of all the illnesses

Why I pick bipolar

I’ll never know 

It picked me 

I have to live with it

People don’t want to know

It’s uncomfortable 

Taboo even

I hope to get 

Well soon

By J. Robbins-Clacema