Tristan Robert Lange

Flesh and Blood

Here I am again,
Awake and alone,
Left to ponder life\'s mysteries.
But what do I really know?

The cold night air
Cuts my flesh like a knife.
The blood letting begins
In crystallized, jagged shards.

To be warm again,
To feel warmth\'s embrace,
To share in the mysteries
Of all that is and ever was.

I am but flesh and blood,
A man, if I can be called that,
A mortal coil, frail and fragile.
I am death\'s surly smile.