In First, second and third person.

Heart pumping frantically,
Body knee-jerk reacting
Mind dwelling upon thoughts and options
Sink or swim rang immediately obvious
Mind and body bickering in doubt,
Of each others ability to see and sort of plan out

Calm steps in to negotiate common ground
Easing fears and over confidence to speak with one mouth
Because neither will make it out without the other

Inner Demons Gnash their teeth and Jaws.
Sharpening arms.  
An Army Colliding head on with common sense in an all out war.
Sides chosen. Battle lines drawn.

An explosion.
The battle cries wail its time, its on.
Emotional war.
Picture, Physiological limitation seams tearing string from chord,
Trying to contain the Psychological revolt.
Its impossible, once sharks smell blood in water.

Common sense retreats.
Battered, broken, beaten.
Face in the dirt. Defeated.

Brutal and vile these Inner demons become restless,
Pacing forth and back among themselves in my head.
Incestually reproducing, multiplying in numbers, damn.
Till they there's no space left for all of them.

Instead they sink their salavating jaws into the sides of my head.
From the inside, Nawing past the walls of sub- Conscious.
And through into the seams of reality and conscious.

Lo and behold worries and thoughts personified and morphed,
Into a wretched, barbaric beast from psychologically dormant
Thoughts that stand in bone and flesh
Standing before you, shadow cast ahead.
Time to Face, the of your mind face first,

Every peek your eyes try to capture,
Is met with a slash from a dagger.
Gasping...
And again,
for unforth coming air...
You stumbling and tumbling Back into depression.
These morphed demons carve your heart apart whole, with each premeditated lash.

All birthed of an internal eternal fit or rage,
Unleashed on yourself by yourself day on day.
Each time you garner enough strength to rise,
From the ashes, yet Another strike from the knife.
Get Cut back, back down to size
Succumbing, to every swing of your demons and vices.
Till your thoughts ultimately murder you into his own demise.

Putting myself in these shoes

Somehow though the darkness
Is reassuring to me as it provides life a constant.
A gift in the hands of a curse.
How could it get worse.
Feeble attempts to reason, no logic, no consolation, at every turn.

Though this theory is will never quell the hurt.

For I have made peace,
With the possibility.
That this murder scene,
Will persist until I can no longer breathe.
Mentally and Physically.

From the outside looking in,
Its crystal clear to see.

So deep is he,
within himself he fails to see.
Every day the pain eases,
Just a bit more than the last one did,
The war scars in his flesh now speak healing.
The dark presence that shrouds him is receding.
Retreating back into his mind, easing.

In the midst of it all he begins to feel it,
He can faintly see the light pealing,
From behind the horizons seals,
Cautiously it sinks in,
Is this a new beginning?...
Or the yawn of another false dawn.
Like an eclipse in the night of sorts.

but this time he surrenders.
Devoid of answers he now understands
that his hands.
Doesn't harbor times sands.
So he reaches deep in his chest.
And starts knitting together.
Over gaping holes in his heart, with faith. hasty patch work.

Then he buried his heart in the sands.
That funnel out times hands.

Trusting that time will soon.
Heal all a broken mans wounds.