Art

Painting in the wall that may soon fall apart 

Sculpture who soon shall leave without a doubt 

A painter weaves his bruh through the canvas 

He grieves in great madness

His heart aces the same as the sculpture slowly feints 

His heart sinks as the canvas runs out of ink 

Tears roll from his eyes as though he has no will to try 

Art is a distortion 

Art is a lie...