my distillery-a poem about my BP journey

I was a distillery once

Extracting aesthetics and experiences

Some who tasted thought the distillates were sweet

So distinct

And some thought it was too inflammable

But for me it grew toxic

And I abandoned my spirits for another place

Where am I now

What do I do

I am no longer a distillery

The grounds were sold to a different owner

And he tore down my distillery

Pays me in cartridges every month

Besides those I am on a raw diet

I love the wholesome taste of fibrous thoughts

They take their time to pass through

And leach out some of my heat

Someday I will find an engine to plug in to

That produces for people besides me

Till then I must decide


How will I remember my distillery

Author's Notes/Comments: 

the person I mentioned in this poem is not one in particular-I have no hard feelings about being 'bought out.' this poem is to help me move on, and I hope it can help someone else in the ongoing struggle with BP disorder

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