There are countless ways to die:
One can fall to their death—
Plummet from the gripless sky.
They can lose infinite breath,
Or get impaled through their eye.
They can seek out every answer—
Never find out what they seek—
Won’t stop flesh feasting cancer,
No matter how humble or meek.
Yes, there are multiple ways to die—
To say otherwise, a lack of breadth—
Who am I to write down a lie?
But worse to experience the depth
Of death’s permanence—gone awry—
Like Prometheus, though I never stole fire,
Nor gave what doesn’t belong to people.
A faithful life lived—given to the pyre—
Never consumed while affixed to a steeple.
Certainly, there are many ways to die,
None seeming worse
Than the death of I.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, January 9, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: January 9th, 2026 10:32
- Comment from author about the poem: Necromancy Sublime is now officially out and available on all major (and most minor) streaming platforms. This is part of Dark Alchemy, my forthcoming album under the project name TragicLife. Listen wherever you stream: https://open.spotify.com/track/1hq7j8OZjye2P3zATczSWT?si=76c3f8a716e64ce3
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Tristan Robert Lange, Salvia.S, Mutley Ravishes
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Comments8
So many ways to die some erase a person from memory, from history, from a family, from friends, a lover but the worst is when one dies it their own eyes. A lovely write Tristan
Soren, this is a generous and precise reading. You traced the many disappearances and landed on the one that hurts most. That understanding means a great deal to me, my friend. Thank you! 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
Most welcome my friend
There really should be a pill against dying.
Now other people wanting you dead, that's different.
Still, immortality is quite nice too.
I'll be happy to get buried in a hot country.
Paul, this is wry, thoughtful, and slightly absurd in the best way. You brush past fear with wit, then let the reality linger anyway. That balance fits this poem beautifully, my dear friend. Thank you for your time and engagement, as always. 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
I is - a very ungrammatical start from me there - I is saying this is a good write T.
Erm, I experienced a death of I - summat like this: * was go*ng to s*t r*ght here and wr*te a w*tty poem about Ob* and the * key on me keyboard jammed. Doh!
😂 The jammed * key is brilliant. Language literally failing at the moment of expression is such an apt metaphor here. Spot on. 😂 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
Good thing our language fails at times, in case we 'do answer that!' lol.
(It is being so cheerful wot keep you going, Tristan😂) Your structure muscled me through to the end. But frankly, after I'm gone I won't care. However it maintained my interest in a perverse kind of way.
Dave, that made me smile. I appreciate the cheerfulness you brought to something that isn’t exactly cheerful territory. Much appreciated! 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
I like the rhyme and structure of this one! Rhyming with another stanza is entertaining! And as for death, he does succeed in many ways, but the emotional death of ourselves, perhaps it's something that can be undone.
🥷, I love how you’re holding both truths at once. The poem names death’s many faces, but your comment opens a small, human window…that identity loss might not be final, that it could be reclaimed. That tension matters. I do believe in resurrection, so yes, I carry that hope. And at the same time, nothing resurrected ever returns unchanged. So there’s that. Still…the hope remains. Thank you, my dear friend. 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
Of course! I enjoy reading your poetry as well as your replies to my comments!
Ditto! 💯
Powerful and haunting. The way you explore the multifaceted nature of death, culminating in the chilling 'death of I', leaves a lasting impact. The Prometheus reference 🔥 adds depth to the existential dread. Loved the line 'Who am I to write down a lie?' 🤔 - a poignant reflection on authenticity in mortality. Very well written dearest Tittu!!! A fave🌹
Dearest Salvia, thank you for this thoughtful read. I love how you held both the existential weight and the mythic echo together. That narrowing from many deaths down to the loss of self is exactly where the poem lives for me. So glad it delivered, my dear friend!🕯️🖤🫥🙏
I remember a friend telling me that George Harrison used to say to people when they were telling him about someone who'd just died, "I bet your glad it wasn't you"!
🤣 Mutley, that’s darkly honest…and uncomfortably true. Gallows humor has a way of exposing how thin the line really is between the living and the dead. Thank you for sharing and glad the poem sparked that memory. 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
I fully agree with your idea, that there are countless ways to die and to have your life finished, both mentally-emotionally and physically. Best wishes,
cellinic, thank you for such a thoughtful response. Holding mental, emotional, and physical endings together reflects exactly the space I was writing from. I appreciate your presence here, my friend. 🕯️🖤🫥🙏
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