... I survived

When tomorrow is too late, and yesterday was a dream. The path was overgrown and I'm constantly consumed with hate. You don't recognize the love I have, the pain is too real with emotions to relate. I mimic your strength as I lock the paths gate. I go to the shed for tools, drugs and paint. Bipolar is a sickness, with depression as my date. I signed the letter randomly, sealed it with my fate.