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Darkend(Bipolar)Mind

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Pray , they say . Pray that your demons do not manifest. Find the light, they say. Find the good in this world and hold on. But, I am friends with my demons, and darkness is my home. And good can only be seen through the eyes of a child, Mine, aged and impure. Smile, they urge . Smile and show the world you are strong. Laugh, they urge. Laugh all your worries away. But, my smile will only mirror the cracks I have in my heart. And yes, I will laugh, till tears roll down my cheeks. So that the world will not be able to see that I am breaking down. Have faith, they encourage. Trust in Him, His time is perfect. Practice patience, they encourage. Perseverance grooms all man. But, I do believe in the Unseen, my demons are a reminder of that. Surely His time is perfect but I do not live forever. And my physical being lives under the oppression of time. Help, I ask. Deliver me from I. Bring Salvation to my soul, Before my demons take me to their home. By: | ...
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Unscathed.

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All my life ive been surrounded by women. No father figures around, so my upbringing wasnt fully woven. Loving and caring were the only languages that were spoken. Hate used to be foreign until i had to walk out the house. And all i would see were fathers and child in hand, A glimpse at mine and I remembered that it was never held. An intoxicated teenager missing his old man, But how do you miss someone you've never even seen? If i had a question pointed at him, the first one would read; "Where the hell have you been?" I was just a boy when my thoughts manifested and turned to an ocean tears. Flooded my face and left my eyes swollen like i just had 10 rounds in a boxing ring. I was forced to grow up fast so i could face my fears, So cigarettes, weed and alcohol became my companion. I couldnt wrap my head around relationships so i moved from one to the next like i was shifting through gears. Before i knew it i was already thinking like an old man, But being...
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Co-Pilot

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I sometimes feel like a co-pilot in my own thoughts. Floating in mid-air,  Letting them take me on different trips. No handle bars to hold on to, So I always have no grip. When drowning in this pool of thought, I swore I would never take a dip. But, Here I am clinching tighter to my heart and Hoping to dear life that I never slip. Slip into a place where I lose control of my thoughts. Becoming practically incapable of making a choice. Then watch my conscience lose it's voice. I don't think there's a sadder sight than  A wise man trapped in a confide space with no way to escape. When I walk in these city streets. I'm always harshly reminded that having a bed is a luxury, That these shoes could have been on someone else's feet. Then, I sit and wonder what good comes out of the lives I see living on these Pretoria streets. Did they just accept defeat? Or, Did they go where ever the wind took them like stems of wheat. ...
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