Ghosts in the Shell – A poem to try and annotate a part of what it can be like living with bipolar in a poetic form

I feel like…

These aren’t my hands,

They do what they want on their own.

These aren’t my thoughts,

They walk in the darkness alone.

Possessed by everything,

Not caused by my free will.

Yet, still I have faith,

Is this just me being ill?

Even angels haunt me,

Why do they seem to agitate?

So now, I’m in a quandary,

Standing at heavens gate.

Everything that I ever wanted,

Happening all at once.

It stands me frozen,

So I guess, I have none.

But, to even feel what I did,

Makes me believe I have already won.

[Written: 2025-09-01]