The cigarette pressed against your lips tells a lie
there is beauty in a broken heart
a voice in despair
tears become art, sentences become verse
There is beauty in a broken heart
paint strokes of red, cancers of black
tears become art, sentences become verse
gentle music of shouts and screams
paint strokes of red, cancers of black
splashed across the wall, chips of bone and bits of brain
gentle music of shouts and screams
one gunshot one piece of art
splashed across the wall, chips of bone and bits of brain
a voice in despair
one gunshot one piece of art
The cigarette pressed against your lips tells a lie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem