It's not pretty.
It's not pleasant.
It's not ******* hip.

It runs through your body
while your mind is still processing what's happening.
You feel like you're going to die.

You can't breathe.
You can't think.
You can't control your body.

And you just wanna scream,
Only you can't.

And tears fall from your face
like raindrops on a crispy morning.
While you gasp for air,
you only wish you'd be normal.

Stop making it "cool"!
It isn't cool!

This isn't something you wish upon a star,
This is something you've to learn how to deal with,
Or you'll let your life be consumed by uncontrollable fear,
Of never having control over your mind and body.

If you knew how it felt to go through life,
And never knowing if you're going to allow yourself
To live in the moment, to enjoy the present,
Without worrying about the future or the past.
You'd not wish to have this disease!

Stop! Stop making this disease a fashion choice,
It's not a ******* choice!
It's something you're forced to live with!