He talked of universe- as if he owned it,
The sun and the moon,
Bowed down to him,
Yet he spoke of it as if he adored it,
Just the mention of it would somehow stop him,
He painted roses in his blood,
For the universe looked the most beautiful in red
Cut open his own skin,
Just to dye them in color of death,
Nobody understood why,
What made him fall in love.
Who would have known?
The universe he spoke of was her