Those Who Are Romantics and Those Who Just Exist

Why is it that society must outcast? The man who stays up, alone, at 2 in the morning, is no less a man than the one who sleeps with his lover, soundly. The dark, early mornings are made for the broken and the romantics. The poet, who writes of a life never lived. The addict, who lives under a sun, with the constant smell of snow. The drunk, who washes sorrows away with a bottle. These men, although living lives of separate indulgences, are filled with unbridled gluttony. The poet, whose words overflow, with nobody to sing them to. The addict, whose nose will never be rid of scars. The drunk, whose hand will never be absent from the bottle. These men are outcasted from society, broken and damaged and destroyed. But you would never know, because they live like us when the sun is in the sky. The dark, early mornings are made for the broken and the romantics. The poet, whose words only stopped when his heart did. The addict, who lost his sense of smell, along with his other four. The drunk, who only lost the bottle when the last of his blood left his hand. Society failed these men, because society doesn’t live for the dark, early mornings. Those who are romantics, sleep soundly next to their lover, with a long day ahead of them. Those who just exist, will sleep in the cold, alone, with the rest of eternity ahead of them.