We never fought against titans
We never fought against trolls
We never fought against tyrants
We fought
Amongst ourselves
When the sky swept
Behind darkness
The wife, she said farewell
She wailed for the world
To go silent
But we were deaf
As we
Fought
Amongst ourselves.
She was
LIFE Herself,
You see;
Dressed in white
(spattered red).
She tried to sing as a siren,
But our harpy cries
Drowned the air.
She used to wear flowers
- A crown of geraniums
Colour coordinated with her sweet
Strawberry hair.
She smiled when she saw us
Sending letters to our soulmates.
She made it fashionable
To write shoddy love poems and pieces
About anything
- Everything –
Our everything’s.
We used to be lovers of
sentimentality.
When did this tire use?
Or was it always
a fleeting hobby we
used to distract us
from our swords and guns
from sweat and swears
from bloodshed and bloodlust?
When the skies tumbled into darkness
The wife, she said farewell,
She knew her songs were
(Once lush)
Now fruitless.
No nutrients
within it
To prevent or
mend her broken
children.
She had a name she did;
R O M A N T I C I S M.
We might have shot her ourselves.
We didn’t see her
Get stuck
In the crossfire.
But she died all the same,
Without anyone looking,
worrying,
Weeping.
She fell.
She wailed.
A whimper.
A last lingering blink.
Did you step over her?
Did you recognise your mother’s face?
Romanticism
(L I F E ,
Humanity)
the mother of passion
purpose,
love.
Lovelovelove.
Yes, she was for
Anyone
to love.
I bet you didn’t even blink.
We never fought against antagonists
We never fought against trojans
We never fought against terrors
We just
slew
ourselves
off.