When They Only Saw The Fire: On Bipolar Anger & Misrecognition

An image of a person standing in front of a fire with the line, “Did it paint my face more than grief? More than monster or woman?” from Taylor Nunez’s poem, “Hell Hath No Fury.”

There are days where I wake up, already burning. Mornings where I cannot shake the fear, the insecurity. Others would see it as a weakness because of how often these demons would plague me. I couldn’t help it though; I would just wake up in a bad mood and could not, for the life of me, be normal.

This poem comes from an evening when the flames of one particular bipolar anger episode simmered for much too long. When my body was holding onto grief like it was woven in her DNA.

“Hell Hath No Fury”

I wasn’t trying to set a
fire—just wanted the warmth to
lick my face, to feel alive.
Did it paint my face more than
grief? More than monster or
woman? The symphony in my head
wants darkness. Only I give to
her a shower as cold as knives.
A song as grief-written as her

bones.

Bipolar anger can be heavy when you’re dealing with it alone and without support. If you are concerned about your safety or someone else’s, you can call the 988 Suicide & Crisis Line.

For some, writing about bipolar anger is one step closer to feeling better. My question for those writers and poets is, what does softness look like after the fire? I urge you to use my own first line, “I wasn’t trying to set a fire,” to write your own poem.

Happy writing.