I see myself,
Myself I see.
Who am I?
Thou art better than me.
Here I am,
I am here.
I face the world,
With many fears.
Can I love?
Love, can I?
Will I learn to love,
Before I die?
Do I hate?
Hate I do.
Can I control fate
Before I hate you?
Am I stupid?
Stupid I am.
I better grow wise,
Before I am damned.
I am too bold,
Too bold am I.
I need to be sensitive,
I need to cry.
Can I be loved?
Loved will I be?
If you permit me,
To share my love with thee.
So, here I go,
So I go here.
To live in loneliness,
For the rest of the year.
Away with me,
With me away.
Banish my soul,
From this woeful day.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved. Written circa 1995.
Tittu
Poet’s Note:
For Throwback Thursday. Written circa 1994, at age 16. In my earliest poetry, I was deeply influenced by old-world verse and Elizabethan language. By the time this poem was written, I was beginning to shed those influences for a more modern voice — though, as you’ll see here, the old world occasionally slipped back in.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: October 16th, 2025 08:27
- Comment from author about the poem: NEWS: Exciting update! A poem of mine, "Autopsy of a Lie", was selected for publication in an anthology that has just been released. Paperback can be purchased on Amazon.com (https://a.co/d/9QpGomzI). I’ll be posting more details and links soon at tristanrobertlange.com. If you have not already, please do give me a visit, even drop a line on one of my poems! Would love to see you! .
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Poetic Licence
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Comments7
A poem that contains questions of value and worth offering to give to others but each offer is followed by another question. It culminates with an offer to leave, whether in space of death is not sure but it carries a feel of sadness with it. Nicely done Tristan
Exactly right, Soren. That searching between love and loss still echoes when I reread it. I’m grateful you caught the sadness and sincerity that shaped those early lines. Always appreciate you, my friend. 🕯️📜🙏🖤
Your writing is excellent, my friend; you express yourself from the depths of your soul and heart. I firmly believe that we all harbor this feeling perpetually. Well done. Your poem revolves around the struggle for self-identity and the quest for love and connection amidst feelings of loneliness, fear, and self-doubt. The speaker grapples with conflicting emotions, questioning their worth and ability to love and be loved. The subject matter touches on themes of introspection, vulnerability, and the human condition.
Friendship, I’m truly grateful for your thoughtful read. You’ve captured not just the meaning but the heart behind it...those early questions still echo even now. Thank you, my friend. 🕯️📜🙏🖤
Well written poem !
Questioning style is nice !
Thank you so much, my dear friend! Glad it delivered! 🕯️📜🙏🖤
It's cool to see how your style has changed! Congrats on the publication! I hope you get paid for it!
indeed, it has evolved a bit! Thank you so much, my friend. This particular anthology is a fundraiser the Pocono Liars Club, so the proceeds go to support it being a resource and support for writers. I am certainly grateful for them and the publishing credit is payment enough for me! 😊 Here\'s hoping to being paid for publishing in the near future though! 🤞🕯️📜🙏🖤
That's awesome!
A serious inner reflection and analysis going on, am I worthy of love, do I deserve to be loved, can I accept love and value it or shall I just walk away and remain lonely, wonderful write, enjoyed the read
Beautifully put, Tobani. You caught the essence...the push and pull between wanting love and fearing it. Means a lot, my friend. 🕯️📜🙏🖤
You are very welcome
Definitely of a time in your life cycle, Tristan. I (almost) remember those questions myself, though it is doubtful I would have expressed them in such disciplined poetic form.
Haha, thank you, Dave…yes, very much a time capsule of teenage angst and early discipline. Appreciate the read, my friend. 🕯️📜🙏🖤
I really like how this poem captures the intensity of self‑reflection. It's mirrored phrasing makes the doubts feel like they’re echoing inside the speaker’s head. The mix of Elizabethan language with raw vulnerability gives it a timeless, almost Shakespearean ache. good going for a teen poet! 🕊️🙏
Arqios, I’m grateful for that read. You caught the rhythm, the echo, and the ache all in one breath. Means a lot, especially coming from you, my friend. 🕯️📜🙏🖤
Most welcome dear friend 🙏🏻🕊️
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