Tristan Robert Lange

Prayer of Disrepair

It’s not despair—

This, my silent prayer—

To exist in disrepair.

In a world of success,

Reveal me as failure—

A hot, unfixable mess—

Set me up for

Erasure.

Let imposters posture

Like wolves in the pasture.

An appeal to the crowd—

Ignore truth’s demise

By remaining loud.

And, my Lord, my God,

This, right here, is where

I sit down and prepare—

As I haunt alone in prayer—

Forever labeled disrepair.

I once was scared;

This time, I am certain,

The vanishing’s been

Declared.

POET’S NOTE:

Part of the ongoing series: The Rutted Road.

First published on tristanrobertlange.com, March 14, 2026.

Tittu