Victoria

He had a heart,
It was shattered when she left,
When she died,
He went insane,
Then he wrote,
And wrote,
And wrote,
Wrote about the memories they once shared,
Wrote about the horrific scenes that playback on repeat in his mind,
Wrote about death,
Murder,
Suicide,
And wrote about the lies he was told,
Over, and over,
He was alone,
Noone to love, noone to hold,
He needed her more than the stories he wrote,
And wrote,
And wrote,
He needed her more than anything,
She was gone,
Now he knows what its like to truly be alone,
Life is like death, and death is like life.
His name is Edgar Allan Poe,
all alone,
all alone...