The smoke fills the air, poisonously stifling.
The destruction of my lungs, i'm forever denying.
Others see the destruction, reflecting it to me.
And when I look into the mirror, death is what i see.
Does this art of decay express my true being?
Nay, the only purpose it serves is the creation of a deadly scene.
Life without death, I strive for a balance
And I manifest such through the expression of my talents.