I Guess…

White, Dave. Life Tortoise. July 12, 2024, Dave White Illustrations.

White, Dave. Life Tortoise. July 12, 2024, Dave White Illustrations.

I used to wish I’d die so young,
A reckless tune my heart once sung.
A fleeting wish, a whispered dare,
A challenge tossed into thin air.


But time has taught me to refrain,
That life is loss but also gain.
I’ve seen the sorrow, felt the ache,
Yet somehow, love won’t let me break.


What if I left, just disappeared?
Would the world pause? Would echoes hear?
Would stars still shine, would waves still crash?
Would morning come, erasing past?


This week, we buried kids.
Last week, adults.
Next week, teens.
Yet hope still lingers in the in-betweens.


I guess…

I have no tears to lend today,

But silence speaks in its own way.

If life’s so fleeting, why stand still,

When love and dreams remain to fill?


For those we’ve lost, for those we keep,
For whispered names in endless sleep,
My heart still aches, but now it mends,
The song still sung, though it transcends.


Would you hate me if I only sighed,
When you told me a loved one died?
Would you judge me if I stayed composed,
When grief knocks twice but finds me closed?


Would you expect my tears to fall,
Like raindrops answering sorrow’s call?
Yet some hearts shatter without a sound,
And love still lingers underground.


I guess…


You’ll think I’m cold, detached, unkind,
But I have scars left behind.
I’ve lost so much, I’ve learned to be,
A little numb yet still set free.


Why do I rhyme about despair?
Because it keeps me breathing air.

Each verse, a bridge to something bright,
A candle flickering through the night.


It’s not the healthiest way to heal,
But poetry makes sorrow real.
Better than drowning in silent screams,
Better than losing my fragile dreams.


Maybe I’m broken, maybe a mess,
Or maybe this is life’s true test.
To keep on living, to still confess—
That hope remains, despite the stress.


To love, to lose, yet rise once more,
To stand and face what life has in store.
And though I stumble, though I bend,
I’ll fight to find my strength again.


I guess…


That’s just how we learn to mend.

Leave a Reply


Discover more from Poetic Bipolar Mind

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

  • Condemned to Choose

    Condemned to Choose

    Freedom is intoxicating and terrifying. Sartre claimed we are “condemned to be free,” bound to bear the weight of every choice. Yet nature and faith remind us that freedom is not limitless. This essay explores the paradox of human choice—the beauty and the burden echoing through every soul.

  • I Am Your Disease

    I Am Your Disease

    I am your disease — a voice that devours hope, strips honor, and waits in shadow. It promises ruin, claims your pleasures, and whispers you back into darkness. For every step toward healing, it watches, patient and furious, ready to reclaim you. This is the confession of that relentless enemy now.

  • Faith After the Storm

    Faith After the Storm

    Grief can hollow us, but sometimes the courage of another lights a way forward. In a grieving parent’s raw words, I found faith that doesn’t erase sorrow but teaches us how to live with it. Her story reminds us: love remains, and community carries us through loss.

error: Content is protected !!