The mad indulge in speaking to their own beautiful abstract

The beauty of beauty is the very centre of beauty. For sometimes its just a superficial coating to ugly

The vain need learn, that the physicals of beauty, degrades in their coffin.

Was I ever crazy? Maybe. Or maybe life is… Crazy isn’t being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It’s you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever. They were not perfect, but they were my friends.

First sign of madness, talking to your own head.

Behind their dark glass, the mad own nothing.