The Riddle

A poem I made while bored...

The Riddle 

He sits there,

with his hat covering his eyes.

His shadows tell secrets,

with mirros and lies.

He tells you a story,

and you can't believe.

He tells you of glory,

and you begin to leave.

 His temper is rising,

the wine fills its rim.

You sigh,

as its never suprising.

The secrets unfold,

and you wish you were free.

His laugh is a bellow,

and you know that its old.

The game has been lost,

and the wine spills over.

And suddenly you realise,

your life is the cost.

You run to the door,

screaming for life.

You feel your heart lose its pulse,

and you hit the floor.

The man gives one final laugh,

and blood has been spilt.

What is the riddle,

and whats the other half?

(Can you guess who the man described is?)


The End

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