borderline.

living with the persistent stressor of borderline;

induces a lifestyle of polar opposition to benign;

living with a spectrum of issues that intertwine;

and racing thoughts that rarely align;

can send a spasm of shivers down my spine;

and are always ensured to blindly shine;

and consume my mind, where there’s a shrine;

dedicated to the endless grapevine;

of each barrier that this illness invokes;

the disorder’s distortions are a genuine hoax;

despite my rational knowledge of the skew;

of my perceptions of myself and of others, too;

and that not all of my speculations are true;

my emotional state is a putrid stew;

of grotesque components, rotting like mildew;

and it’s grueling when others misconstrue;

my psychotic outbursts—which i admit are undue;

as intentionally deceitful or malicious;

when the reality is that it’s not me that’s vicious;

but it’s these thoughts that are truly fictitious;

and remain vehemently pernicious;

i’ve been forced to balance this for many years;

my childhood was spent being rejected by peers;

and my varying environments all grind my gears;

because of excessive amounts of sensitivity and fears;

and the sounds of success or supportive cheers;

have maintained dead silence within my ears;

the basic task of lifting the shears;

to cut out the aspects towards my cascades of tears;

can be entirely treacherous to endure;

and despite the fact that my intentions are pure;

a profusion of people cannot comprehend;

how much time that i’ve been mandated to spend;

how much energy that i’ve been forced to expend;

how many situations in which i’ve had to pretend;

like i wasn’t rapidly falling off the deep end;

like all of problems didn’t completely transcend;

my sheer capacity for being able to tend;

for the issues themselves, and the make-up of my brain;

and the phoniness merely induces further strain;

of my overall ability to remain;

composed, as well as to maintain;

the palpable sense of my disdain;

the mental, emotional, and physical pain;

the guilt that i feel whenever i complain;

the burden that comes when i to try to explain;

why i feel like i’ve been violently slain;

why i feel like i’ve been struck by a train;

why my mental forecast is purely rain;

why i feel like i’m tied by borderline’s chain;

why the absence of clarity;

can provide me with vulgarity;

and a total lack of prosperity;

my thoughts are onerous to ascertain;

and can drive me to go absolutely insane.