there is a glass wall
it follows me around
it keeps me separate
from all the people
that come close.
the glass wall allows me to see
everything that's outside
my fingertips brush the glass
i long to cross to the other side.
to not feel disconnected
during an embrace
or all alone in a crowded room.
but the glass wall
it sneaks up on me
and casts me aside
i will never get to cross
i won't even get to try.
YOU ARE READING
mayhem.
Poetrya collection of poetry that delves into the longing and freedom that comes with growing up as an undiagnosed bipolar, and how it feels to come out on the other side.
