Reality

Across a room, where shadows breathe out diversion, there stood a man in deep. In his eyes is a hint, of a sorrowful tint- labeling innocence by gloomy fame. He broke a neck and pulled a vein. Exposed a skull, and ate its brain. Drank the blood, from its stabbed heart. It was his masterful art. But, clear in his dimmed perception, he saw himself devastated. Yes, He was the man he once thought, from a clash he once fought. He smiled at the end, admiring the beauty of what he used to amend. Reality.