Help me save him!

I'm begging at the knees.

If it was up to me, he'd already be well and free.

When I close my eyes and when I dream,

I see the beautiful soul he is destined to be,

 

I just want to help- BANG BANG!

Shot is his soul; he can't find his way back.

When I close my eyes,

The pen writes,

Pencil sketches,

And paintbrush creates a path for his return.

 

When I close my eyes, I see his chaotic existence return to utopia.

 

In this cognitive configuration I- BANG!

With this cognitive configuration I- BANG!

This cognitive configuration- BANG!

3 shots, dead soul, lost again

DRIP.

DRIP DRIP.

3 sips, lead tint, sick again.

He is paralyzed and surroundings have consumed him.

 

I hear his cries; he begs for help, 3 yelps and everyone flees.

I am here.

With the touch of my hand and with wide eyes shut,

This new cognitive configuration can be beautiful.

 

He hears me.

No more pain, found soul, well again.

Together, we can change.

Together, our cries are heard.

With my help, he won't fall

AND

HIS

NAME

IS

FLINT.