Bipolar

You, sad lady carving your face in a smile like you'd carve pumpkins for Halloween
You, beautiful trainwreck with lips dripping blood and honey
You, bipolar girl, traumatized brown eyes searching for ghosts
You, a walking open wound with a hole in your chest
You, sweet disaster sleepwalking through the city on an empty stomach
You, evaporating vessel because your body is just as tired as you are
You, guilty whisper of a woman with blood on her trembling hands
You, suicidal ideal before going to bed, didn't kill yourself today but might tomorrow
You, whose favorite part of the day is going to sleep
You may have died a thousand times inside yesterday.
You may even die today.
You will not die tomorrow.