Modern Romanticism

Come up
with droplets
of your paranoia,
seeing the name
that remains
unchanged.

When the sunlight
hits your eyes,
will you say
the words that you
have longed to hear
yourself say?

When the faces
of those you’ve lost
are recognized
to have gone
to the furthest part
of your tortured heart,
will you unleash
the hurts you save?

Will you weep
with all that drowns
the earth you neglect
to upkeep?

Tears could be
your melting point,
to reach where
you will say
you no longer care.

For your smiles
have been forced,
have kept you
losing sight
of future salvation,
under timeless,
tameless resignation.