MENTAL HEALTH'S A WHITE ROSE

I ached but had trouble admitting it.

I should admit myself and I did it.

I tried to understand how I was the problem.

Relationships continued to end; I must be the problem.

I tried to understand what is that I do.

I chose to remain single and bored than to get it too.

But then it became a lie, I lied here to get it.

I talked for days about it to try and get it.

Do I have autism? I felt out of the norm.

Mixed in understanding the emotions I form.

I stood there depressed and in a manic state.

As I tried to balance another heartache.

Mental health is something that many don’t understand.

I knew it until it was played into my hand.

I had a short fuse it’s something I knew.

Revert to the anger that is something everyone knew.

But I lived with superego always in my head.

I just could not control blackouts and that’s when it's bad.

I tried to learn from the past, but I felt I never learned the lessons.

Carried the lessons over but I still had no blessings.

No blessings and it hurt my world.

I wish I could find the reasons I hurled.

I hurled all my beliefs to later than cry.

I choose to change, and society made me cry.

They say girl you're just bored but I know that it's more.

Blackouts ended relationships I truly adore.

I said I’d try to get it and generally did too.

Looked at all my flaws and tried to fix them too.

They say it's my atmosphere I don’t feel secure when I attach.

But then again I did all I can do to prove I can easily attach.

I try to understand myself, but I know that it's rare.

For humans to fully comprehend even when they're not there.

It’s rare like a white rose we all wish to hold.

Sad, I compare my bipolar to a flower, it is bold.

A flower we all desire so why do I compare?

Don’t all humans need an up and a down to be made aware?

Aware of all emotions, type 1 explores all emotions.

But then again I’m not fully in control of all my emotions.

I call myself a white rose because I know that I am rare,

Type 1 bipolar it’s so beneficial if I made room to compare.

Compare myself to the red rose, an atypical society.

I know I could grow super if I mastered my emotions of variety.

I am a white rose, they’re a white rose, mental health’s a white rose.

Sadly, if we don’t understand it, this could be opposed.

But I am a white rose my emotions are simply priced higher.

Saying being in tune with all emotions is something to desire.

When I grow manic it’s really made clear,

I am a white rose because my desire for something is rare.

I continue and continue to try and get it or do it or simply have something around.

Imagine when manic turns controlled how one can turn a world around?

So, I am a white rose, I say it again.

Because even in my down and I can rise once again.

Rise once again because I know the emotions I hold.

If I ruled the world, I am saying this out bold.

Bold because the red rose doesn’t easily see,

The rareness within the white roses to be.

White roses to be; because being bipolar made me better.

No longer a seed because I wish for better.

In wishing for better I can now grow.

My roots are attached to the therapy too.

And now that I am ready, I am ready to glow.

Just another white rose who chose to understand what people call a show.