Negative-Pallor

the ache in a soul that has been left behind is like an empty void dragging on through time devoid of everything there is no work or play there's nothing to show just let it all go and try not to hear what they say to breathe and feel yet be dead inside to go through the motions like you are alive to be passed over like a last resort over and over, it starts to hurt to hear good things that you will never see they are just being nice because they want to be so as i close the door on the world tonight i make sure to lock up tight it's the end of another day and there wasn't much to see stuck in a place where there isn't much to be there is an emptiness here except for me

when your world crumbles around you because what you had was a lie then i will be happy when you feel what i felt as everything sacred was ripped from my soul then i will know peace when you know betrayal the way i do and it comes from one you love the most justice will have been served when you are gone and your restless mouth stops moving balance will be restored when i can no longer remember who you even are then i will be content but you will be just fine and nothing is sacred to you and people do what you say so i doubt you'll be betrayed and i'm sure i'm going to die first then i will be content

something wicked this way comes... daylight flickers with the dying sun- like god didn't pay his electric bill, something wicked is coming for thrills. tension builds like static in the air, and you're not religious but suddenly you care. a low tones rises, felt more than heard... you can feel it in your chest rumbling the words. something wicked knows you are there, one with the shadows evading your stare. shadows lengthening at the end of all days, stretching, reaching, in menacing ways. and when the thing reveals itself, you realize there really is a hell. and all your denial in fairy tales- has brought you here to no avail. something wicked stands before you, gaunt and withered, looking down at you. and all you can do is freeze in fear, no matter how bad you are it won't help here. gleaming eyes peer into your soul, and see the things you don't want no one to know. and the part of you that makes you feel real and whole, shrivels and dies and riddles you with holes. the wicked

life... sometimes it's pretty, sometimes it's dull it all comes down to flowers and skulls to save what you love, no matter how hard you try to keep what's important when it all wants to die a flower and a skull wieghed on the scales they balance each other so neither prevails keeping each other in check keeping each other down with no respect you are a flower and i am a skull you are so pretty but i am just dull any chance i had is void and null so why even try to make a flower love a skull?

Rain dropped in draping sheets that were backlit by streetlights outside Joes Cafeteria that night. The place as about to close and was mostly empty on this drenched evening anyway, except for the employees, busboys and nightshift waitresses. Tables were being cleaned, the floor vacuumed, the kitchen mopped and so on. In another thirty minutes Dave would go into the breakroom and flip the breakers that would shut out the lights. Susan was about to flip over the "OPEN" sign on the door to display its "CLOSED" side when there came a tap on the glass which made her peer out into the dark. The drenched silhouette of a slightly built man in an overcoat and carrying a briefcase shivered outside. The man mouthed the word "please" and shrugged as if he was sorely hoping to come inside. Technically, there were five minutes left until closing time, she thought, and maybe he just wants to use the phone. So, against her best judgement, and giving into kindness, she opened the door and let