In the clear sky, stars twinkled about.
His feet just barely touch the ledge; He stares up towards the heavens.
He smiles, daydreaming of what life could have been.

He steps away into the ink.

The air flows through his hair as he falls, a star catching his eye.
Memories flash and run away; His head caresses the pavement.
Looking around at the leaves on the ground, he let himself fade away.
The wind blows the color away, his soul forever forgotten.
Lost in the wind.

If love is a beautiful thing, why does it make me cry?
If life is worth living, why do I want to die?
If the truth is honest, why do I lie?
Everything contradicts itself in the end, or maybe the problem is just me.
If "God" is so forgiving, why won't he let me be?
If everything has a reason, why isn't it seen?
If I was made for greatness, why do I feel the same.
If love is a beautiful thing, why does it bring me pain.
If love is a beautiful thing, why do you make me feel shame.

Our love is fairy tales, the ones with an ending untold.
"Our" love is one who's heart is stone and the other is gold.
The love I feel is burning, an ember unsure of the flames it gives out.
My love is everlasting, though it is bad for my soul.