And as he looked in the eyes of the beggar woman,
He saw the eyes of a woman he believed dead.
Saw his wife's eyes staring back at him.
He didn't even feel it,
When the child killed him.
The child he had made a cannibal.
They had made so many people to be that.
Those people who were so high and mighty.
The man who had stolen all he ever loved.
He remembered the woman,
Who believed she loved him,
even as he watched her burn.
He had become used to the smell,
The smell of burning flesh.
He had come to adore,
The spray of warm blood.
Yet as he looked in her eyes, now going glassy,
He realized he didn't love any of those as much as if wife.
And as he realized he had slit the throat and
Killed his daughter as well.
He thankfully sunk,
Down into an eternal sleep.
Where he was in his own personal hell.
Shaving people with his beloved blades,
Yet never being able to kill them.
And the corpses floating above him,
His wife and daughter,
Haunting him forever.