I Am Nice, I Am Mean, This Is The Bipolar Scene

It was the season of giving most were just waking
To me it felt more like the season of taking
Here, son! Have a gift
Let us bury thatsoul-nagging rift
Thank you so much for this beautiful material
But, it's not what I need in this unfinished serial
I don't need your money or monetized attention
And I certainly did not needyour loving intervention

Not for what you thought at least
Indeed inside me there lies a beast
The drug, the alcohol, the self-deprecation?
Those were mere symptoms of this insidious incubation

He's so two-faced
Plus he wants it this way
He doesn't want to work
Like we did in our day!
If that is the future of our youth
He needs to find a better way
Son, we beg you just kneel down and pray


Well, if that is what you think would help
If that's what you think you need
We will help find you a doctor to go see
Look on the bright side and try to hold on
While I suddenly tune into your oldest of songs

Your son needed help, help all along
For years he cried that same old song
The ears were not deaf, which it fell upon
They would stop to help, but it takes too long
Yelling and shaming and ostracized was he
Wondering why not a one could see?
Now they want to help, now they can relate
Even though angering and insulting it was not too late

Maybe it's a lifetime overdue of denying what's inside
Maybe they still are in disbelief and trying to hide
But, I am bipolar and I am alive.
 
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