He ran until his feet met the cliff face.

Stopping quickly on edge, closing his eyes for the brace.

His body colliding with the bars of the range.

The proverbial gate of reality's cage.

Slipping through the boundary, his mask took a tumble.

Detached from his body, his legs quick to crumble.

Not too long later his mask hit the rubble.

Shattering, dispelling, his image now muddled.

Now the whole world could see that boy tremble.

The tears on his face and the beasts he resembles.

How can he live when he’s at hell’s level?

The comfort of the mask is hardly eternal.