Tristan Robert Lange

Our Eternal Slumber

Lost and losing grip,
I cannot see my face.
My fingers bleed liquid lead;
My throat is swollen melancholy.

The winding road is broken
The cracks slip through the fallen.
The air sits upon my shoulders
Leaving me crushed and breathless.

Who has come to save me,
To save all who are left behind?
What hell awaits the living dead,
Those who walk in eternal slumber?

When the fire is sparked alive,
When it burns but never consumes,
When death makes demons of us all,
Life and angels have certainly fallen.

Comments2

  • Trev

    Wow, nice work. I feel like I'm watching it unfold

  • Nicholas Browning

    Hey there, I read this the other day and didn't comment. I can't remember why I didn't. Anyways, this is cool stuff. A fresh style and take on the feeling of being forsaken. Good stuff.

    • Tristan Robert Lange

      Thank you so much! I appreciate you reading it and for the feedback as well! 🙂



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