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He looked around at reality and was disappointed at what he saw. So, he shattered it. Tore it apart at the very seems and put all the broken pieces back together in a way that didn’t even begin to resemble what it had been before. Had there even been a before?

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He had broken the impossible. He had shattered it and picked up the pieces of the walls that had housed it and made art. Beautiful, deadly, sharp-edged art. It was much more now. But it was also less. So much less. But what did that matter? It was more.

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He was no more than a thought now. A simple whips that would be blown away on the tail wind of another bigger, more important thought. Because that was all  He was  now. A thought. A whisper. A name. He didn’t exist anymore!

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If the truth is not believed, make up a more believable one.

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It was a monstrosity masquerading as a massacre. But not. It wore its heart on its metaphorical sleeve. There was no need to masquerade as anything. So why was it still?

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"You... You... You stabbed my through the heart with your words. You crushed it into a million little pieces."

Thank you.