Journal of a Manic Depressive

The blood that spills upon these weary hands
Is but a taste of what may come to be.
I know, too well, that no one understands
All of the racing thoughts inside of me.
One thought of happiness is replaced by
Ten other thoughts of pain and misery
Only to follow the questions why
I must live on in endless agony?
I know I am not wanted in this life
Because all of my suspicions come true
When those I loved stabbed my heart with the knife
Of betrayal as they hunt and pursue,
But times will come when I will find a way
To get revenge and take this hurt away.