That feeling of poisoned led,
Piercing through the heart.

The strangled cry for help,
As the world just falls apart.

The small voice quivering,
So silent on the wind.

A mind that cracks easily,
Can never ever mend.

So powerful was the screaming,
Like banshees are believed in.

The echo sounds so insane,
Yet it's heard again and again.

"Can you hear me?
Can't you hear me?"

Nothing has yet been spoken,
No sound has yet been made.

But the voices inside the head,
Cry out for a bloody wage.

Although revenge is plotted,
It will never take action.

The mind is far too stressed,
To make it more than fiction.

The unknown reason of comfort,
That calmed this fatal hound.

Was a kind knightly gentlemen,
Who had been eventually found.

The howling figure trembled,
It's pain somehow resembled.

In the shadows that fell,
Created by the Knight's spell.

The gentlemen knelt down,
And offered his right hand.

The heart and mind are freed,
From the black dark land.

The kind and the damaged stand, rise together hand in hand.

The damaged's last breath,
The kind's first breath.

She can't breathe, but he can.
He'll breathe for her.