Tristan Robert Lange

Demented

The blood is the life,
Like crimson velvet,
Smooth are the platelets
That stain the shroud.

The silence screams loud,
The emptiness absorbs
The sound of echoes
In the dark of night.

And, with total delight,
The silence mocks me.
I am the world’s reject
Left alone, tormented.

The world is demented.
It rules the weak ones,
It owns the confused
Making slaves of us all.

Comments3

  • PoeticSisi0705

    So true love this poem

  • Goldfinch60

    Good write.

  • Garry

    Beautifully written. Love the feel of the words. Sadly don't really understand it, but that's my fault, and this didn't detract from my enjoyment of it at all.



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