Falling

• Willow Antonacci, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2018

I’m cold, I’m broken, I’m falling
Down, into the abyss of demise.
My will, being taken from me like a thief in the night.
My soul, like a dying fire, is no longer bright.
My passion, like a cloud being morphed.
Until it is no longer noticeable.
Down, into the abyss of despair.
The light, just out of grasp.
This darkness seizing me into its cask.
To no extent will I be remembered.
My name, to be thrown into the dirt!
Down, into the abyss of hate.
It was not I who started this!
But still I am falling, endlessly falling.
All of this, what is it for?
Only to become victim of war!