Hidden in Plain Sight
No one hears me calling, my lips are stuck like cold winter frosting, my mind can’t be unraveled, it’s peppered and bruised and can’t be unchanneled. Where is my vice? In liquor or night, or is my vice hidden in this poem I write.
I’ll let you decide, the judges who hear my whines, the psychiatrists of literature who read between the lines. I hope you understand that mental health is no joke, one second I’m free, the next “where’s my rope?”.
This isn’t a game between life and death, just try to hold on, hold on for one more breath. Because if time could be measured out on a scale, you would see my life is of inches, the foot prevails.
About this poem
I wrote this poem while I was experiencing a depressive bipolar episode. I’ve been struggling to find the right medication for what seems to be forever, albeit has only been 5 months. Every time a medication starts to have potential, a side effect presents itself in which I have to discontinue. Poetry is the only way I can feel in control during one of my episodes. The ending lies a message about how my life is in inches, how everyday I wake up to a different feeling of unpredictability. When I use the word inches, I mean I track my every move, I take one step at a time, usually they are short steps or inches. The “foot prevails” gives light and hope on a better tomorrow, where I don’t have to watch my every step so intently. more »
Written on November 01, 2023
Submitted by Theunknownblogger2 on November 02, 2023
- 38 sec read
- 45 Views
Quick analysis:
| Scheme | X X X |
|---|---|
| Characters | 665 |
| Words | 127 |
| Stanzas | 3 |
| Stanza Lengths | 1, 1, 1 |
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"Hidden in Plain Sight" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 15 Jan. 2025. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/175316/hidden-in-plain-sight>.
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