I am not some kind of toy
That you play with.
Sitting in an empty room
The rushing of blood is the only noise that could be heard.
As it travels from my heart to my toes and back around.
If thoughts were fingerprints
I’d be covered in yours.
This month’s guest poet is Briana Herr, aka Booboo! She brings us this deep, painful poem with a disclaimer. This poem was inspired by individuals struggling with untreated bipolar disorder. If you’re having trouble with your own mental health, please call this hotline: 1-800-273-8255,…