My mind, a canvas, painted with extremes

My mind, a canvas, painted with extremes,
A whirlwind symphony of soaring highs and crashing seams.

Manic brushstrokes, vibrant hues alight,
I conquer mountains, paint the stars with golden might.
Ideas explode, galaxies in bloom,
Words dance on wings, shattering the confining room.

Success a siren, luring me to chase,
I build empires in the sun, leave no time for waste.
Projects bloom, a garden rich and grand,
But whispers lurk, shadows close at hand.

The colours bleed, the light begins to wane,
Entropy's touch, a creeping, icy rain.
The vibrant dance slows, melodies grow faint,
Leaving echoes of a brilliance now constrained.

Depression's fog descends, a heavy shroud,
Thoughts like cobwebs, clinging, cold, and proud.
The canvas dims, the colours turn to grey,
Will I ever see the sun ignite the day?

Catatonic stillness, trapped within my shell,
The world a distant echo, a forgotten spell.
Each breath a struggle, a monumental feat,
To rise, to move, to feel the pulse beneath.

But even in the darkness, embers glow,
A flicker of defiance, a seed that won't let go.
For in the depths, where shadows hold their sway,
Resilience blooms, a fragile light of day.

And then, a spark, a whisper in the night,
A brushstroke trembles, guided by an inner light.
The colours return, hesitant at first,
Then bloom anew, a universe rehearsed.

My journey, a tapestry, woven fine,
With threads of triumph, sorrow's intertwining line.
A testament to strength, to rise each time I fall,
A testament to the spirit that conquers all.

So let the dance continue, the colours ever flow,
For in this symphony of extremes, my soul will always know,
That even in the darkness, stars are born anew,
And I, the artist, paint my own sky, vibrant, bold, and true.