Every day she sits in the same chair at the coffeehouse. Sipping the black liquid, black like her own soul. She is no exception. Only cursed with this gift. She knows best that ignorance is true bliss.
She is jaded, like the ground on which she stands. She is an angel with broken wings. Her hair matches the darkness of the world and her eyes are tinted purple. Even her lips are translucent pink, revealing the blue and purple veins beneath. She will never escape. The evil grows inside herself.
Evil floods the city, the state, the world. The universe. Evil is in the water the people drink.
Humanity is no longer a word. There are only the evil and the stupid. Sometimes both. The last good died years ago, before she could see it. She knows she has failed to bring good into the world. She knows her mission is useless. This world disgusts her. It makes her nauseous. It makes her cry. Usually only a single tear, as an agonizing reminder. The evil will drive her to insanity. It pushes at the sides of her brain, making her insides collapse. She sees people drink the blood of both the living and the dead. She sees the dead cry. Only her eyes can glimpse upon the restless souls whisping through the sky.
She is laidened with burdens, too much for her to hold. Unless she falls. Inside of her there is an emptiness. It pulls at her insides and tears her heart in half. It eats at her soul and her mind. It grows with each pang of loneliness, with each tear. No one will ever understand her pain. One day the emptiness will pull her in. She is standing outside of it as it grows inside her stomach. It is a bottomless pit of loss. One day she will be on the edge, and she will be sucked inside. Her soul will be dead. Her only consolation is that her fate will come. And when it does, she'll be smiling.