A bipolar poet

Every time I've tried to fight and win in my war I lose, I'm speechless and I've a smiling face, I made from my unseen tears and my words poems... I wish one day I can win...

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I hear more than one thousand million voices.

Oh my brain, which one is the best choice?

Shall I laugh or shall I fall asleep.

Shall I slough myself or shall I keep.

When I go to pray and have some peace.

my mind did swear that it would kill me.

Just like my ink tears, I screamed "please".

Stop playing with my thoughts, leave me.

Oh my lord have mercy on me I'm dying alone.

Oh God forgive me for my unbelievable thoughts.

I was uncontrollable. I'm wrong. I felt in my bones.

But I'm not me, all my tryings come to nought.

My lord, I don't know which rak'a that I'm praying now.

I was fighting myself to stand and read that verse again.

I asked about something that would help somehow.

Something will change my feelings, and will finish the pain.

I was stopping as lost as a person could be.

I heard a sound " this's your seventh prayer".

Suddenly I smiled, that was my brain I see.

Then I knew that I was the unknown slayer.

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