They said he had friends,
but they neglected the projector
and left him for better.
He noticed the seams
of these perfect creations,
then led himself to believe
that magic was real,
and that dreams could come true.
Left alone in abundance,
his sits and he ponders.
Why does he let his emotions Rule over
what he believes is right,
what he believes what is just.
Crawling alone in the room made of crimson,
he cries.
for he has been lured
into another commitment,
into another entrapment.
Ripping at himself,
no one stops,
no friends are there to help.
He just sits alone,
waiting for the empty room to collapse.
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