everyone tells you of the terrible twos
but no one warns you of the teens that haunt you
you lie there alone, all warm in your bed
as bouts of depression dance through your head

you walk through the halls, life a hazy grey
as you wish those demons would just go away
anxiety haunts you, you tell your psychiatrist so near
as you wish you could just walk out of the rear

pills and pills in little orange bottles
“this will help you i'm sure! it's the new model!”
you cant help but feel that no one can comprehend
that you, a child, is so near the end

you cant feel anymore, they whisper in your ear
closer and closer the demons grow near
you feel so trapped, as you cannot breathe
you sit down on the floor “not again” you seethe

they’re called panic attacks, your therapist tells you
these happen a lot, and they are hard to live through
your friends they try hard, to get you to smile
you do as you are told, this goes on for a while

you realize when all is gone and all is done
when you wished you were dead, **the demons had won

From
I'm good
To
I'm tired
To
I'm scared

1 second:
my mind drags my languid body across the tundra of insanity
my eyes focused on a space
a blurry shape focused
something in between reality and the real world
2 seconds:
roles of films show screenplays flickering across my mind, lighting up possibilities of what could go wrong
One goes by, and the film starts again running over and over
as the films play, I slowly drown in a sea of attacks
1,000 feet, my world spins
2,000 feet, my world fades
3,000 feet, my world becomes red, blocking the rest of the colors of the world
preventing the peace of the world into sight
4,000 feet, my soul mending into an entity with no right of way
it drifts upwards as I drift away
3 seconds:
my mind becomes the phantom
black, hollow, clustered, dreadful, worrisome
following my hollow body, swarming with words
creeping up behind me, people pass in blurs
their energy sweeps me up, fills me, empties me, making me feel even more alone
4 seconds:
do I cry, show the world the Prince of Darkness that clings onto my body
pulling strands of my hair, slowing my world to where I stare at myself and see a mess
see the tearing across skin, my face, only my red eyes can see, when they see my reflection
it’s a happy girl, who is never too sad, but the red can see through the mask that is always glued on
or should I **** it up and keep the beast swimming through my brain
prying my mouth open, keep it inside and let it eat me alive
5 seconds:
my heart, feeling four times as heavier as it did 6 seconds before
telling me *you’re okay, it will pass, the storms almost over, the friend always there to help the in pain
even when the expression shows different
the brain, feeling four times heavier as it did 6 seconds before
telling me you’re not okay, nobody cares, see they just passed you, why would someone care?
The common enemy, the one who's always there to tear you down even when the sun shines bright
6 seconds:
to keep the phantom from attacking, breathe steadily, never miss a beat
which would you chose to believe?
The phantom, the common enemy, the one who controls your thoughts
or the friend, there to keep you running through it all?
The choice seems easy, but sometimes
the choice isn’t yours to make

predators of the soul
strike at the unexpected hour
having stalked their prey
for days and weeks and months

suddenly
the sun looks wan
and you know
they are there
waiting

when they attack
it’s almost a relief
and yet
the struggle is
for life
or death

the beast of the jungle
is very strong

it is that other side
of your core
that rears its head
in dark moments

Across the ocean's dome,
Controlled by piercing shouts without a doubt;
On an altar in the distance:
An open book with censored words!
Tear a page,
Observe the rage.
Not what any freedom fighter would.

In a rowboat in the open,
Draw the source of their devotion.
Pencil sketch the jagged beard,
And stretch the nose a thousand years.

What a time to strike some fear!

The terrorists will echo with madness,
The pen is your sword.
The innocent will run to the forests,
And the artists make war.

Across the desert homes,
Contained by giant seas to some degree;
In a planetary orbit:
A crying team with crooked teeth!
See the page,
The winds enrage.
Not what any freedom lover should.

Bullets charge at the comedian's door,
Burning down all the carpenter's lore.
Sculptors mourne over severed stones,
The innocent turn, yearn, learn...

The invasions form, warn, and burn.

As the terrorists echo with madness,
Hold the pen as your sword.
As the innocent run to the forests,
Let the artists make war.

Throw the drawings ashore!

sshhhhh
slow down
everything is moving at a mind numbing pace
I can't tell where I am anymore

this body feels like a vice
growing tighter and tighter
the madness is coming back
my brain is swelling and my skull has no give

all I can feel is my body shaking willow branch in the wind
I can't type fast enough to get the smatter of chaos out of my head
this isn't a poem
this is a frantic plea of distraction

I just need the pill
it's sliding down my throat
ten minutes is a life time when you are counting the milliseconds

here it comes
relief
the swelling is reducing
the wind is dying down
everything is coming into focus

The shame of thoughts
of having said
Thus sin creeps into mind

But strength will come
when I have heard
This cause is hardly thine

All Victory is Mine!

Explosions and gunfire wherever you walk,
not knowing your fate as the hands whirl around the clock.
Blood running like a river through the streets of rubble,
body parts scattered around - each one of them has crumbled.

They've declared a war again like many times before,
not caring about the civilians; battle commences more and more.
History is repeating itself time and time again,
it seems as if they cannot from bloodlust abstain.

This is about the innocent lives that'll be inevitably lost,
their precious and innocent souls are the greatest cost.
Their last memories will be that of brutality and threat,
and watching their family die randomly one by one; like a game of Russian Roulette.

Masses of skeletons and piles of bones
will litter the lanes as common as stones,
and their names will always remain unknown,
and as they perish they will do so despondent and alone.

I analyzed you. Sitting across from me at that coffee table. I knew your thoughts as your eyes were indulged in that morning paper. I know more than what those reports share with you. I watched you, but you didn't know that. I saw the fear in your eyes and watched your hands tremble. In that moment you let go of me, but I still had you. We had each other... And no matter what the world crumbles to, I've got you.

Streets painted with love
Now stained with blood
Allah, the all loving
Has taught nothing but kindness
His love hates the blood under your nails
His love is benevolent
His love is TERRORISM BECAUSE OF YOU
Any news is good news for satin
The Devil's name flashing across or television screens
"Islamic State claims attacks on Paris"
*******
You tarnish the name of peaceful worshippers
You ruined refugees chances at a better life
More lives will be lost at the hands of racists
BECAUSE OF YOU
This attack on the west has done nothing for Allah
But hurt his followers
And hurt their families  
Satin's satire stained the streets of love forever