my sky is crumbling…
pieces flying downward
cluttering this empty space i can’t call home
becoming a part of the mess that plagues me
my self-created sunshine dims
adding to this ever present darkness
filling the expansive void of failures
that i anxiously stack and eventually step on
only to fall once more on the edge of unexpectedly
deceived by a holographic image of progress
of a bluest sky with cotton-y clouds and real sunshine
I fall apart in the loud silence of bipolar depression aftermath.
I, a broken piece of nothing, a presence existing under erasure.