Walking these streets so absent of hope, a pillow of concrete a man with no home.
Clary walked downtown New York, sky dark, raining hard. Her Ipod buds in her ear, blasting music. She barely seemed to walked where she was going, but at the same time noticed everything that happened. Ahead of her a homeless man slumped against the side of a building, shivering.
Lend him a hand, then we're walking the way. Leave the virtue of pity, but we live with the shame.
Clary dimly reached into her pocket and dropped a ten at the mans feet, near a puddle. The man scrambled to pick it up and called thanks but Clary wasn't listening. She was still walking away.
So scared to dream in a world with no sunlight. When you wake up, you know it's darker than last night. Quickly we forget, sacrifice gone by. Born to walk away, been walking my whole life.
All she kept replaying in her head was coming back up to the garden with a dozen or so Shadowhunters. They spread out and declared the floor empty. But she knew it wasn't when she left. She remembered collapsing against a wall when she realized that neither Jace or Sebastian's body was still there.
When her mother came up to ask what was wrong she broke into tears. After about an hour Luke coaxed the truth out of her. Within ten minutes the entire Conclave was out searching New York, calling in favours, following trails.
Though they all came back with nothing. That was a week ago. Everything had passed by in black and white. Clary no longer saw the world as an artist. She saw it as it truly was.
Where'd you go? Where's your home? How'd you end up all alone? Can you hear me now?
There's no light, there's no sound. Hard to breathe, when you're you hear me now? Hear me now