Abandoned Halls
The screams of the innocent ran out in anguished calls echoed off the side walk, broken concrete, and unpainted walls the sun will rise and not notice, neither will the moon as it falls the wind will cry for eternity: forgotten whispers in abandoned halls He can feel the blades of indifference, can feel the shade as it crawls it's not what makes him grow distant, It just rakes with its claws the devil acts without interest, without mercy, or cause so she'll never ask him his business, he'll never hear the applause Though it tore through his veins, and it turned his heart black if the poison didn't taste good, he would've stopped coming back So, the walls crumble and rot without a witness or guest it's not for the distance, but for the pain in his chest It doesn't hurt much. Ignore the aches and the moans he’s used to the touch, it merely scrapes at his bones What a waist of a rose, but they all burn to ash better to break than to close? Well, if she keeps coming back “The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved” - Mother Teresa