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You may see people,
With hearts that fly,
Or even die,
These hearts that fall,
Hit the ground,
And break wide open,
Never to love again,
Only to bleed blood,
Blood of pure red,
To show they are dead,
But others dont bleed,
Or have been broken,
These fly high on velvet wings,
Yet they are not saved,
From the death of all hearts,
A death called love,
As for my heart,
It's wings have been clipped,
And left to fall a great distance,
To die in it's own blood,
Blood that is red,
But before it bleeds,
The last of its blood,
It stares up tords the stars,
At those hearts,
Hearts With Wings.