Poetry
28 Jun 2011
Author: Bipolar Babe
- the cabin - By Lizy Gipson
tonight i looked back and saw
the cabin tucked away
in the forest of my mind's thoughts.
i could feel the pain pouring down upon me
like a tropical storm
that had raised it's ugly threat
to wipe out the peaceful existence
that protects the gardens of my mind.
i closed my eyes
and tried to blow out
the candle of hope that i had held so long
as i prayed in my silent vigil
to find the courage just to live.
my heart was so blind that i could not...
20 May 2011
Author: Bipolar Babe
We are already dead.
Not marching, but stumbling...
shuffling...
staggering down the bright
fluorescent hallways lined with
one way glass and mirrors.
Invisible from the outside,
but naked on the inside.
Human bodies with
broken minds.
We stand apart from one another,
spaces between us.
Standing catatonic,
like a forest of dead trees.
Silent.
The only sound comes from
behind inches of plastic,
the nurses at their stations.
The screaming
from the rooms without windows,
save...
15 May 2011
Author: Bipolar Babe
Feeling fabulous, to dance on the moon,
Are feelings that have not come too soon.
Fabulous as a summer's day in the sand,
Hearing the live melody of your favourite band.
So fabulous when a friend has a baby,
When no isn't an option, but at least a maybe.
Passing every test, not waiting to fail,
Are some fabulous things life will unveil.
My image feels fabulous, no longer to fear,
Feelings of resistance when I look in the mirror.
When you meet a boy that sweeps you off your...
15 May 2011
Author: Bipolar Babe
As we travel in the boundless land of life,
We carry our baggage of sorrow, regret and strife.
We ask the 'what ifs' and lay in the valleys of doubt,
Allowing ourselves to feel turned inside out.
We look back at our shadow that taunts,
It paints ugliness and weakness - it haunts.
If we reach the top of the mountain and choose to bask in the light,
We realize our shadows are to be embraced, not something to fight.
Turmoil in our souls will allow us to grow like a flower,
And in...
15 May 2011
Author: Bipolar Babe
Looking behind you, feeling the shame crawl on your back.
Constantly reminding you that there's something you lack.
I once believed shadows were demons waiting to rip me apart,
Knowing the darkest corners of your blackened and torrid heart.
The most powerful entity is the shadow behind where you sit,
Revealed by the small candle in the room where you lit.
On a canvass filled with reminders of our tattered past,
We seek a million candles to make the warmth of the light last.
But the...
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