Tristan Robert Lange

The Art or Subtle Disdain

Another moment

Someone showed

Something seriously sardonic

Herein about themselves,

Obtuse as they are

Lost in their own

Everlasting sonnet of certainty;

Stark, cold words—theirs,

Under no certain disguise—

Nailed into another soul

In total disregard for

The vortex of hurt
Exploding in the other’s heart.