life is but a work of art.

look like a painting, taste like a dream.

hang me in a gallery, before i go insane.

now quiet,

we need not speak in order to fly.

hark!

for angels do walk among us.

their steps are whispering,

“deep down i know,

flames only burn

when you get too close."

they cover themselves in gold-plated visions

to conceal their see-through souls.

what is love,

but a loss turned upside-down?

if a heart is made from diamonds,

can it still break?

as my fath...

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