Psyche of the helpless

These are just thoughts that run through my head, but they're not my thoughts.
They're whispers from the cracking cages that sit at the depths of my mind, I can feel the claws and teeth scratching at my every thought, their hot breath burning and corroding my waking dreams as they whisper to me.
Its an endless battle to keep those gates closed, to force those whispers back,
Its draining, sapping me of self delight, of confidence, leaving me in the dust, as my blood seeps into the desert of the hollowness left in their wake.
My eyes search for a light, among st the darkness.
Something to guide me on wards.

Gliding over the horizon, an angel flies. Her smile lights up the plains, her eyes engulfing my attention.
Her skin is a soft as silk and she glides peacefully over the desert to wards my broken body.
I hide my face, broken and ashamed, doing anything to avoid her pure, flawless self from seeing what they did to me.
But she strokes away the blood streaked hair from my face, and wipes the tears from my eyes.
Her touch lifts me to my feet, her hand gently within mine.
She looks naught else but in my gaze, those soft caring eyes, full of love, full of delight.
And I am me, but to my feet i am pulled, and I burn no more, the heat from their breath withdrawing.

I can hear cages creaking, and groaning, but fresh chains are brought forward.
She leans to wards me, and touches her smooth, sensuous lips upon mine and gazes at me, holding me tight.
With a blade at her side, i see dark hewn figures of whispers before us,
building me up slowly, there to protect me. She is my angel, my love.
She protects me, and holds me.
She supports me and loves me.
She is there for me and weeps with me.
She is my love, my all.
She is.