Tristan Robert Lange

Letters of Complaint

Dear anxiety, go away,

Don’t come back here any day—

I am tired of sleepless nights,

Being caught up in my frights

Of things beyond my control—

Feeling trapped down in a hole—

You are smothering my soul.

Dear depression lift your curse,

Get the hell out; I’ll be terse,

I never asked you to come here

And I want you gone—it’s clear.

Your dark grip shall loose its hold,

These dark days have grown old.

I no longer want to feel so cold.

Dear society, still at large,

Full of advice deep as a barge,

You think you can label my brain,

Put me on drugs, call me insane;

Yet, I’ve got you caught red handed,

You’ve done your part—here I’ve landed.

I take me back, we’re disbanded.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.