Bipolar

A psychological poem about perception.

Though I see darkness there also may be light
Is it spring or is it winter
Am I deserving or unworthy
My thoughts go racing while my temperament is short
My spirit is saddened yet my ideas flow continuously
Creativity is there but through a vale of uncertainty
I now suspect that the vale may have past
Perfection is what I dream to pursue
Yet the fear of frailty plagues my ambition
The new light of spring suddenly turns to the darkness of winter
The vale haunts my dreams once more