My bipolar

Every stumble feels like a fall and every fall feels like I’ve failed. The easy saying of “pick yourself back up”seem no easier than to stay down.
 I’ve become numb to the feeling of the ground.
My claw marks still lay on the ground where I spend most my time. In the rare moments I rise to see the day most times the rain will reappear and remind me of my ways of why so often I am restrained to the ground.
My mind is my weakness and my strengths find no light on these days I have these thoughts, it is dark. It is silent and it is safe.