Rotten Romanticism

Rotten Romanticism

The air is wretched with rotten romanticism.

A vile smell withers the air and strangles the breeze.

You watch with your eyes as you fall to your knees.

Bullets decipher reality and release.

Fireworks or friendly fire?

Who can tell and why bother?

Enemy’s on all fronts and all with a smile.

Burning flesh in unknown holes as they smolder into the Sun.

Common place for hatred and mutiny. But not on days like these.

Where the rain puts out this senseless light and invigorates the ruin.


Poem by Jesse Rando