In a house where silence gnaws the walls, Cain stands fractured, no voice calls. His mouth a cracked, abandoned cave, His teeth like loose and splintered graves. Mercy comes with breath like frost, A whisper caught and almost lost. “Why do you stand like shattered glass? Why do your hands tremble and grasp?” Cain’s jaw clicks, a brittle drum, His voice a ghost that won’t become. “The crowd—they watch with eyes like knives, Their words are thorns that steal my life. My teeth—they rattle, crack, and fall, I try to scream, but nothing at all. The silence breaks my fragile skin— A war I lose before I begin.” Mercy reaches out, pale and cold, Her hands like anchors trying to hold. “One by one, I’ll catch the pain, Hold your teeth so you remain.” Cain nods, but his breath is thin, A trembling fight he cannot win. His teeth fall loose like bloodied pearls, Scattering secrets, shattered worlds. The floor drinks red, the darkness spreads, No voices come—just empty beds. Mercy’s hands reach, but grasp the air, Her touch dissolves, she’s never there. Cain falls to knees, alone and raw, No savior here to catch his fall. The crowd’s a storm inside his mind, A biting cold, unkind, unkind. “My teeth,” he says, “are falling fast, No hand to hold them, none to grasp. I’m screaming in a silent room, A cage of glass, a whispered tomb.” His mouth is blood, his breath is stone, A cracked voice trapped inside a bone. No Mercy waits beyond the veil— Just him and fear, too vast to sail. So now he looks beyond the night, Past shadows swallowed in their flight. To you who listen, who still breathe— Would you hold my teeth? Would you catch the shards I lose, The broken pieces I refuse? When every glance is sharpened pain, Would you hold me through the rain? Or