From the beginning
To the end,
Every flesh and bone is bleeding of complicity;
Complying in the devil’s work of
To be and not to be.

A paradoxical impression
to be a conspicuous painting,
While given a restriction of colors
Consisting only of
The grey shades on each lost souls tombstones,
Pure whites like the snow that goes up an addict's nose,
and the dull blackness that posses a smokers' lungs.

Society pushes one to be beautiful
Defining beauty in the dullness of originality.
Daring souls search for the rainbows,
While the others
Pull air-tight bags around of the heads
Of those who no longer desire
the breath of flames beyond their feet.