Tristan Robert Lange

Greater than the Sum

It was great to see you tonight,

Even though things weren\'t right,

I tried to push away the fright,

Yet, I could not find the way.

There was an undisputed fall,

Where I fell and hit a brick wall,

And was stuck feeling so small,

But could not come out alive.

So, I smiled with a wide grin

And took the hit upon the chin,

As the darkened thoughts within

My mind began to spin and churn.

Yet, there was no hope for escape

In this prison, in this landscape,

That rips the entirety of life agape

And leaves me alone and bleeding.

You say, \"From him you\'ve learned\",

And it\'s true, that can\'t be spurned,

But you do not know how burned

That I have been through the years.

So, I strive to keep it all straight,

But I\'ve lost my sense of what\'s great

And am instead filled with such hate

That seeks retribution for the past.

My pride has got the best of me,

And, as such, I am lost in this sea

Of pity, of sorrow, of melancholy

Where trouble floods like torrents.

Still, there is not a chance in hell,

Where all the angels have since fell

Into a mortal coil, a soulless shell

That I can claim my hopeless pride.

The teacher has moved on from here,

And my pride lost among my peers,

So that even drunkards don\'t cheer

At the state I now find myself in.

I\'m lost, desolate, can\'t you see,

That I am no longer who I should be,

And that no one can now reclaim me,

For I am gone from this cursed place.

Sure, I learned a lot from this man,

And learned what was not the plan,

But from his mistakes arises the fan

That extinguishes a stoked flame.

It was really me, myself and I,

That rose beyond the teacher\'s lie

That I was totally destined to die,

And found the truth lying there within.

So, tonight I shall write this in blood

And pour the truth out in a flood

So that the world sees through mud

To the truth of who I\'ve always been.

No more lies, no more jealous hate,

No more false pretenses as a gate

That leads all others to recapitulate

The bullshit he has fed everyone.

The time, the new season, has come,

The parts are greater than the sum,

Parts the carpenter deemed as plum

And the temple is now set to be built.

So, laugh at me, and jest if you must,

But his joke has proved to be bust,

His lies have circulated like a gust

Of wind that dies but moments later.

© 2017 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.