on Bipolarity
By: McKenzie Wood
It bangs on the walls
like a tempered child.
Rattles my teeth and
sings the war songs
of the day.
It dies on my lips.
it swells in my breast like
a held breath, an overextended
cry for mercy.
The lion prowls and prowls in
its cage behind dark eyes
waiting for claws, for teeth, for
a reason.