Bipolar & My Brother

I wear a mask every day of my life,

It causes me pain & stress,

It makes my life such a chaotic mess,

I wish this mask would lift,

However, nevertheless, it’s a part of me.


I wear the mask of lies,

There are so many things in my life, that I am in denial to myself,

I wear this mask, it causes me to feel torn,

My eyes are broken,

They make me see such things like a unicorn.


I wear this mask, as I have no choice,

The mask is apart of me,

Only when I am high, It lets me a peep of what the world can see,

When I am cold and distant,

My family & friends see that I am absent from their company.


The lies, pain, heartache and madness,

These are all traits of the infamous illness called bipolar,

Bipolar bring something with it, I call it darkness,

It portrays all the above, but the bipolar makes the victim an amazing actor.


We all wear mask’s, some of us have no choice,

However together we stand as an army and we can rejoice from the pain,

Bipolar gives me strength when I don’t have enough to fight,

The whole thing is just a massive big game.


I have done more being bipolar and an actor,

Than my peers without the darkness that beholds me,

Once the darkness has lifted, I am able to see,

See the damage from my man-made hurricane,

My thoughts and actions have made such damage, like a crashing train,

It will be so hard for me to repair the broken mind, without loosing more to gain.


I shout to the voice in my head,

Please leave me be,

The bipolar counter-attacks me, and asks,

If I was to leave you so you could see around you,

What purpose would you feel you have in this damage, mad, judgemental world?

I stopped and thought, he’s right, without him, all my driven rage to make a difference would not mean anything, as I would not be the solider of bipolar,

I would only be another person that is fake and lie and act like a robotic textbook talker.


We think about masks and lies and mental health, as a danger and a horror,

I fought at war with myself for over a decade,

It's not all war, there is some victory to be told,

Bipolar takes my soul, but it does not take what is learnt from him,

This is pure gold,

Something that people forget they have, they have the skills to live with it,

The skills to help others, this is my thrill, this is my reward.


Helping others with the darkness is hard,

But it’s a rich reward to do so, so having this thing inside your head does not mean you are weak, even if likes to tell us we are,

The truth of it, couldn’t be so far,

We are tough, clever and a fighting solider,

When you believe you are defeated, look how far you have come and remember we are fighting soldiers against the darkness, that’s the answer to this crazy world and our eventful minds.


So, therefore when the bipolar asks if I go,

What would you be?

The answer at first made me feel so speechless,

As I know I am doing what I do,

In my job, in my degree, all this is for me to blindly accept the challenge to stop the stigma and help the wounded soldiers.


The first response to its howling thunder within my mind made me speechless, and above all, powerless.


It's took 10 years to know,

My life is still going, my recovery is a show,

It has not ended until I reach my life goal.


Bipolar, you have made me a solider,

You have made me speechless and powerless,

You have made me feel isolated but delighted in a strange way,

As you have given me experiences that no-one could ever experience,

You gave me strength in my manic shows, to give me the confidence to do acts that I could never because of how scared I am of rejection.


Bipolar I thank you for all the crazy moments for me to end up in jobs and applying for moves that will help me in my later showing,

Bipolar I want to thank you for the horror, the unpredictable thoughts and the uncontrolled impulses that have driven to me god’s gates of heaven on more times than I would like to remember.


Bipolar, you are apart of me, it's taken me a long time to see,

See that you and I are brothers; every relationship has its good and bad,

So when I am deeply saddened by your reactions and what you put me through,

I am happy we can help others, forever walking in the same shoes.


Bipolar, thank you, I now have my final clue, to make my life a complete show,

With, of course, a happy ending.


My brother bipolar, you are my soul, my life, my heartache, my pain, my chains to freedom, my strength to show them, my crazy manic and fast lived lane, my lessons in life from nearly being taken to loving everything that surrounds me, and my love and hate for you, forever always learning from you, your mortal, but living brother Sam.







bipolaremotional painpoetry and mental health

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