King Lear

The wind that fell
like a stone,

On the hill
that for the man was his home.

The rain that peppered him like pebbles,

style="MARGIN: 0pt">Being hurled at his frame by devils.

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0pt">Fine clothes torn and
bedraggled,

Like plucked
geese still alive in a gaggle.

Hung from his old worn out body,

style="MARGIN: 0pt">Tattered and faded, sweat soaked and
bloody.

Of his mind
nothing remained,

Except
the surrounding a tortured same.

Demented and ravished by dogs of insanity,

class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0pt">They tore at the morsels of
his brain in depravity.

So Kings of men know no reality, or that's how it felt like to
him!