Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Friends, I’m doing my best to keep up with comments. 😅 I’m still current on my own poems and first replies on others’ work, but this season has been a bit of a twister. Figured I’d drop a quick note so you don’t think I’ve vanished or gone flaky.
Read. Write. Rise. Realize. 🤘💀🖤
Friends, I’m doing my best to keep up with comments. 😅 I’m still current on my own poems and first replies on others’ work, but this season has been a bit of a twister. Figured I’d drop a quick note so you don’t think I’ve vanished or gone flaky.
Read. Write. Rise. Realize. 🤘💀🖤
Death!
Call out my name,
Bring out the shame,
Nothing’s the fucking same!
Death!
What a trip,
Lost all my grip;
There’s nothing left to strip!
Death!
Let me stay,
Erase this fucking day;
The metal comes to play.
Death!
Call out my name,
Don’t try to tame
The master of the game.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: July 20th, 2024 22:03
- Comment from author about the poem: The inspiration behind "The Master of the Game" comes from a deeply introspective experience where I grappled with the concept and call of death. This poem captures the raw emotions and existential turmoil I felt, using vivid imagery and intense language to convey the profound impact of that experience.
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: fire_fly
Offline)
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