having Bipolar + DID

A poem:

people laugh and joke like it doesn't matter

that people in pain get sadder and sadder,

and i know in my heart that i don't matter

- no one matters. 

I remind muself this as i hold a knife

to my throat, to my wrist, to my thigh

as i cry

- CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?

then a voice in my head came softly and clearly:

"I can hear you, you're not alone.

you don't have to do this all on your own.

Take a deep breath, put down the blade;

you know good and well these feelings will fade"

I do as i'm told,

wish this voice was a hand i could hold;

and this will not have been the last time

that she stopps me from comitting this crime. 

Like when i gave up and walked infront of a car

- she was there to slap me ajar

and got me to th other side. 

I've had her a while and it kills me to hide

this person inside me that the world would shun. 

But shes been my friend since this had begun.

Well now it open and life is good,

life get violent, strog like a sword

her presence will sheild me and take me forward.