The Last Romantic

You may fight your demons with swords, but I fight mine with words. I tell them how they must not try to hurt me, for I am the last of my kind, the last Romantic, the one remaining legacy of the people who truly dream. I tell them how they must not hurt me for I may be the only one who might yet save our world from damnation, from eternal darkness. I tell them they must not hurt me for I am the only salvation, the only hope the lost people of this world have left. And in doing so, I force my demons to step down onto earth, fall down to their knees and weep out of pity for the sorry state to which we have all driven ourselves. They weep for my fate and for the burden I must carry. They weep for me, the last Romantic, because there are great tasks with which I am charged. They weep for me simply because I do not; because I feel weeping to be a mediocre man’s job. Us, the Romantics, we do not weep for ourselves, but for others and their failure to understand what it means to be truly loved.

I, the Romantic, the last of my kind, shall not fight my demons with swords, but with words. & in doing so, I will make them my allies, my friends, as they are the only friends I ever hope to find.