On days like this, I’m full of life.
Stuffed sick, can’t take another bite.
A bipolar poetic plight.
Starved, I devour all delight.
Hungrily consuming on sight.
Reached my limit, I grow contrite.
Never truly felt quite alright,
Queasy on my passion’s excite.
Sluggish and sleepy, no more might.
Too weak to continue- good night…