It stains the skin eternally like a love lost that will never return. For if it were to return it would destroy the beautiful pink roses and leave in its wake a wide void of destruction. The tears will roll like the seas and the currents will electrify the skies. The day will come when all the pain fades away… until then the bullet wounds of emotional destruction remain gaping holes for the world to view like they are giant museum pieces waiting for your applause and approval.

As we all sit in the waiting room with the constant buzzing sound and clashing of piano keys in no order or sense, we delve deeper into our meaningless lives and sink, sink, sink in the voids of our depression and mechanical life doings. Singing along to the songs of society that we have been indoctrinated into believing hold the truth, the way, the light, the life, the truth.

Trickling down the side of the statue is a new kind of blue blood which is poisonous but majestic as it runs down into the drain and filters through your tap and creates absurd assumptions and preconceptions in your mind. But you will continue to drink because it tastes so good and if not why not. “THIS IS MY LIFE!” you scream from the rooftops of your own creation and expect people to understand and say OKAY while they sit back and watch you kill yourself slowly, willingly.