Forgotten: (No Name Yet) Poem by Adrian Jascha Tetzlaff

Forgotten: (No Name Yet)


We stare at broken clocks,
fruitless plants, slowly losing the touch
If the fallen body's would had started to rot
I would be still here, possessed in love

The hands don't turn anymore
The days turns into nights
Sorrow has it's own form,
tunnel vision denies an different life

Death is only a horizon and I'm ready for my sun to set,
no need for an beginning and an end, when it's written in regrets.


I am an ocean, I am the sea
There is a world inside of me

Crucify me,
pin the nails like it should be
As nothing is left

I'm lost in the abyss, drowned in the deep
No set of lungs could salvage me

Gripped harsh, slaughtered here
As death roots burned my veins, which held me free.


Empty body's, empty places, is this the void,
when it's the only thing that I can see?
Hours, Days, Weeks experience the routine
where I can't seem to sleep

Paranoid, completely delusional as I'm trying to reach,
Corridors over corridors while being punished that I still can breath
Hollow eyes, constant trembling, lack of everything that I wanted to be

And I stand in misbelief, laying here as it doesn't stops to bleed
Its not cause you're not with me
It's cause you never leave


I was born in a hearse,
for better or worse,
I was blessed with a curse

Vast vicinity, empty places, endless eternity
when someone passes, you can still act in serenity?

It was and is not possible for me,
as I'm sing a lullaby to cope my dreams,
as it shattered, what love created here
I won't turn back, even when the agony repeats

Nothing that I could worry about
Because everything that I touch turns to stone
So wrap your arms around me and leave me on my own.


Flaws burning,
burning like hell flames,
my skin.
already written again,
the sins.

I'm an ocean,
I'm a brittle tree
still no end,
as it was mention,
the eternity.

New set of lungs,
a new motion in my hands
As a tree plants seeds,
set themselves free,
let the curse find a purpose,
I was never meant to be.

We all walk alone on an empty staircase
Idle halls and nameless faces
Pestilence shall come,
weeping stars, never ending sun.

Feeling the still flaking, crooked fingers
as we're the kids from the heavens garden
12 days, seven kids, puking their mouth dry,
as their fate lingers
Our home, our self, here, home
At the layerless evergarden.

(five parts inspired by lyrics from the group Bring Me The Horizon)

Wednesday, June 5, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: poem,dark,psychological,melancholic
from Chapter 1 part 2.3
Error Success