Mania and Me
~a poem~
sometimes I
miss my mania
minus the destruction
that it brings
sometimes I miss
the endless nights
where sleep eludes me
as I find joy
in the little things
sometimes I miss
the electricity
that radiates
my entire being
sometimes I miss
the person who sees
everything in life
I don’t see
sometimes I miss
my mania
does my mania
miss me?
