​All-Or-Nothing Thinking

For what reason this all-or-nothing thinking?
Too hot, too cold,—but never in the middle
I live, a victim of this ruthless riddle
(that contradicts reply, and has me sinking)!

This anarchy of mind that’s got me drinking
is never gray, but too much or too little
like a deranged, mad instrument, a fiddle,
that counterpoints a melody without blinking.

Unlike my thinking, life’s not black or white
but somewhere in the middle, where insane
poor souls escape manic, neurotic thoughts
like refugees from their depressive plight,
a Scylla and Charybdis that won’t drain
the swirling stream of mania’s onslaughts.

© The Lithium-Laced Lyrist. All rights reserved. 21 May 2024