His eyes were so pale they were white
And could not focus.  He seemed scared as he
Looked around, searched the room, then groaned.
I saw him fight those demons deep inside, the ones
Throwing stones and chipping his bedrock.  I could
Hear them yelling if I listened close enough to his skin.
So I looked on and broke his fingers on his request.
The pain helped to steady him, bring him back, he said it
Calmed his restlessness.  In those blue, young hours 
Of the morning, I saw him rise, try to go to the bathroom
By climbing out of the window.  Those demons were hell,
They would not leave him alone, I witnessed it myself,
But he insisted he wanted to leave, insisted on going
Before I could exorcise his wits and make him clean.
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