It is time to open the eyes of the blind and undo the ties that keep us bound in apathy. Let us fasten are pro test signs to the end of our Bayonets and march as a collective, speak out against the corrupt, and let all politicians know that Americans are prepared to dish out what we have been given, that republican or democrat makes no difference, let us unite in our frustration and speak our minds. Let us tell them that false promises and miss led ideology no longer holds us constricted. No longer does it mater what you say in a speech or what platform you stand on, but how you live and inter act in our everyday life. We must teach them once again to respect the offices they hold and hold them accountable for there success and there failures it is time to stand up and say enough is enough we no longer fear you, it is your turn to fear us.

The dark hour has come again. That time between when you should go to bed and when your mind shuts up. His head is screaming louder than usual tonight. He’s not crazy, don’t call him psycho. He is unable to control his thoughts, and they are running wild on him like a pack of rabid dogs. He would probably be a happy guy, fun to be around, dare I say, life of the party? That is if he were able to shake these stealthy demons that pass through his brain, heart, and soul when ever they choose. I use the word stealthy because at times they lay dormant, if only to let him believe things are better, right before slamming him again and sending his hi hopes and new found positivity in to a tail spin. Whets worse is he is the type of guy that wares his hart on his sleeve so although he does his best to hide his jaded and morose outlook; it is all over him, thus causing people to avoid him. Only creating a self fulfilling prophecy of loneliness and depression. Either that or they can smell the stench of self consciousness. On and on the cycle goes as our subject slips into something so deep and dark, that the only accurate way of describing it is hell on earth. Or at least his perception of earth that is. Know one really knows what goes on in that brain of his, part of him begins to believe he enjoys these moments of sorrow and self torture, a depression junkie. Self mutilating, mentally dissecting, every decision he has ever made, and every relationship that has ended he begins to question. Do I do these things to my self on purpose? Do I set my self up for this pain? Am I addicted to the drug of let down and anguish. On and on these questions go thus continuing the seemingly never ending cycle of inner turmoil