A boy leans against his door,
Torn by the grief and loss created by his own mind,
Tear stained cheeks that never knew a smile.

The boy falls to the floor,
The door is blocked by his own weight,
He is trapped by his body in a room cut off from kindness.

The boy hits his head against the wall,
In a futile attempt to escape this life,
His head begins to throb, a confused mess of screaming voices fill his ears.

Then one voice is clear,
Calling him,
Leading him,
He feels safe, sure, free,
He finds himself calling back,
"I trust you." He says, raising his eyes from the floor,
"I trust you," She replies, but that's not what he heard.
"Open the door," Is what he heard, words he'd never even considered.

He lifts himself up, and grabs for the lock,
With a moment of hesitation, he slides the bolt across.
But he can't bring himself to do it, he looks at the handle,
He puts his hand on it and tries to push down.

But his other hand stops him, grabbing at his wrist,
He is so close now, but he can't do it,
He takes two steps back, away from hope,
And the door swings wide open, light streams in,
With a smile she grabs his hand, and pulls him from his cell.

He sees an open door behind her, a room as dark as his,
"How did you get out?" He asks, she just laughs and squeezes his hand.
"One clear voice, calling, leading," She whispers in his ear,
"It told me to open the door."