The Fallen

July 30, 2008
By Angela Fei, Arcadia, CA

Once, my world a perfect portrait.
Now, mere puzzle pieces,
Forgotten, Ruined,
Scattered in the rain and mud.
I see a lake of crimson.

Once, my world covering walls with vivid color.
Now, fallen to the floor,
Exposing the ugliness underneath.
I cried in a room draped in black.

Lost and Unloved,
Shattered and Forgotten,
Piece by piece, plunging into
a bottomless pit of nothingness.
I washed in a pool of gray.

My tears are sent far away,
in the storm of the Fallen,
Sent in a crisp plain envelope
In the Color of Death.


The author's comments:
I originally wrote the first version of this poem only for English class, but as I continued on with my drafts of other assignments, I found myself going back to this one and rewriting it, extending it, and so on. This is the final (maybe?) version of the Fallen. I wanted this to be about a person, who has been struck by a crushing grief. It doesn't matter what gender, race, or age the character is, because anyone can feel the same sadness when losing someone important.

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