In this valley, of evergreen and blue skies
This is the place where I ran away to let my old self die
Let rest of that adolescence
Raise from though chains and ashes

I am on my way to something to call home
A place when I can put my feet up and be alone
Hiding from the people and lights
Maybe this time I can sleep through the night

Maybe this time I would put up a fight

I am going forward to an unknown place
Drowning in cigarettes and bottles of broken space
Whiskey breath and yellow stains
Off kilter and swaying lanes

Maybe Ill be alright, Ill be alright

I am finding my steps, my footing
It usually starts to work when you’re not looking
Close my eyes and see what this world is giving
Promise myself to live a life worth living

If I don’t try, all my friends will go away,
All my dreams will melt away
Oh,
What a day is today
What a day such as change

There's a little boy
Drawing in his room
Momma comes and sees
A vibrant ocean blue

He says mom would you like to know
Why this painting is my life
And why this image in my head
Haunts me every night?

When you look at the ocean
You only take the time to see
What's on the surface
You don't know what lurks beneath

You see blue skies and birds
Hugging the salty water
You don't see the shark below
Devouring someone's daughter

And over in that corner
A ship has sunken down
It took a family with it
All the children drowned

But over on that beach
So many people play
They won't acknowledge the danger
For that would ruin their day

I feel much like the ocean
People only come when all is calm
But when everything is upside down
Suddenly they're gone.

Doctors post videos of me laughing
And photos full of smiles
But when I need the cure
There's silence stretched for miles.

They say I am a warrior
They call me brave and strong
But for this I've had no training
They've never been more wrong.

-ARI

Curtains,
an invention made to hide,
to protect.
Curtains
are made
to give a sense of security;
isolation well-deserved.
But
Curtains,
can be dangerous.
Curtains
can keep you from the truth,
keep you from your life
outside your life.
Curtains
can make you feel stranded
and helpless.
Curtains
can make someone go crazy,
crazy enough to take a bottle,
keys,
and a gun.
Curtains
will make you drive around for two days,
THINKING
about your two sons.
Curtains
will make the hot fat tears roll down your face
in embarassment and pain and agony.
Curtains,
will put that one bullet in the gun,
put that gun to your head,
and pull.
Curtains,
will blind,
and lie,
and ****,
and tear,
and rip,
and hurt
you,
if you let it.

I'm sick of waiting,
I'm sick of this.
                   Free me from my suffering!
                   Save me from my abyss!
I'm sick of lying about myself,
I'm sick of pretending to be ok.
                    I'm not like everyone else.
                    I'm not ok!
I'm sick of hearing people talk about me,
I'm sick of people not caring.
                   I'm not what you think!
                   Why don't you care?!
I'm sick of remaining silent,
I'm sick of the thoughts that break me inside.
                   I'm not defiant!
                   I'm not going to stand aside!
I'm sick of being trapped,
I'm sick of it all.
                   I'm freeing myself from this
                   trap!
                   Im not going to fall!!!
I'm sick of being me
                   Don't judge me!
I'm sick of everyone
                  You're not the only one!!
I'm sick of life
                   All I want to do is die!
I'm sick of it
                   Let's end all this *******!

I'm losing my mind
To these voices inside
As they tear apart my sanity.
I have cuts on my wrists
And scars on my hips
From a past I cannot escape from.
I fear every meal time
For thought of gaining weight
And the image that stares back and mocks me.
You see I long for one thing
And that's to bee good enough for me
But my thoughts are so self destructive.
So every night I cry
Curled up on the floor
With my companion in hand
Willing myself not to begin again.
See this would be easier with bottles of pills
And a mind that wasn't always racing.
I'm balanced on the edge
For weeks straight I've only had one thought,
I can do this, I can do this...
I can end this torment and no-one would notice
For I am nothing to so many.
I'm a lost voice on the wind
A shadow that can no longer be seen.

Today, I was sitting on the SEPTA, on my way to work as usual.
Suddenly, a Secane Bro appeared. This wasn't just any bro, it was a special breed, rare and only to be found at the Secane station between the hours of 7 am to 9 am and again from 4 pm to 6pm.

These are the Indian research bros.

They come in with gelled hair, starched shirts (ranging from pink, sorry, salmon, to white) and the indelible odor of Indian cooking and men's cologne.
For a more science-driven bro, a heavy backpack is essential, while the cooler bros have headphones and briefcases.

The bros are often self-conscious and gang together.
They rarely have a female companion, since such a thing is against the bro-code. They always sit together, or at least in the same car.

Most of all, the bros have hope.
They are ambitious,
flying fish in the dreary SEPTA morning atmosphere,
zealous believers willing to jump
through whatever loop and
hoop to get their own piece of the
American dream.

Dream on bros, dream on.