If the stars were red
And the moon was black
Would we still romanticize the sky?

Would we want to send men past our atmosphere?
Or would we fear what's above,
Believing that demons lived in the space above us?

Drip dropping
Down to the abyss.
Drowning in the dark;
Drooping towards the depths.
It's dank and detestable,
Dreary and disgusting.

But it's doubtful that you'll determine
That deprivation of this disaster
Will deter your distasteful feelings.

So you decide to disguise it all
With one decent smile,
And dance into the deceitful.
And join the ******.

Naturally weary.
Sighing the biggest sighs around,
Shoulders drooping,
Head leaned forward,
Back hunched as if good posture was the plague.

Leave him be.
The silence is his biggest solace.
It doesn't ask a thing from him,
Unlike the rest of the world,
Whose demands keep growing,
And get louder every day.

The gray hairs shine more and more.
This cup of coffee is the only thing left
That he enjoys.

Running, running, always running.
What is it with the running?
Why is that the verb that I,
And all the rest desire?

We want to run!
To get away!
Our own lives never good enough.
The place we sit never feeling right.
We're always searching,
And always wanting,
We feel as if we need it.

But do we?
What if we're wrong
What if right here is just fine?
Because here and now is who we are.
Who are we to deny that?

Why do we need to run?
To get away?
Who said that what we are right now,
Isn't what we'll always be?
If we run; we're still ourselves.
But now we're in a brand new city.

And alone.

She fell right down,
But not to get back up.
She fell right down
To find out
Just what was down there
On that ground.

In the dark dank place
Where all the good people go.
In the end they all find themselves
Right there a midst the ground.
So why shouldn't she too
Join them there in the Earth?
If that's where all the good ones go,
Then there's where she should be.

Halloween had a funny feeling
Ever since you left.
Football games were fun,
But they were never quite the same.
November was exciting
But brought back memories.
And December, always my favorite month
Would squeeze my heart a bit.

And then last night you called me up
And said you felt the same.

For so incredibly long
I thought I'd been forsaken.
Been taken in and then replaced,
Because you never really cared.
When all this time it was a lack
Of **** communication.
For all the days we talked and texted.
We couldn't just ask one simple question.

And now it's just a little too late.

Been left alone for so long,
I thought that I was crazy.
The memories I held-
Were sure to be forgotten,
By all the others in them.

And if I'm the only one
That really does remember.
Does it even make them real?
Or would they then,
Just be ingrained,
In my imagination?

That worrisome thought,
No longer relevant.
When you showed up
At my door;
To ask me if I too
Remembered those worn out
Memories.