I dunno. Maybe I'm just bitter?

The sweet smell of freshly picked flowers
caresses the strong morning air.
Drops of dew melt away the heat.
It is you and I
that stand upon this pillar
This world of quickly sinking damnation.

Woodland creatures,
whose hearts are more innocent than children,
run by, searching for simple sustenance,
as the souls of those
that we have seen anguished
feast on the rotted death that spews forth on the sidewalks.

It is you I have chosen,
but it is you who makes my choice
irrevocably insane.