Fallen

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They say that the bigger you are, the harder you’ll fall
But what I failed to see, to think, to dream,
Was what if it was me?
What if I was far above?
Among the highest lands of all,
What if I were the mountain tops,
That loomed so far above the withered fields of grey.
What if when, one day, it came?
The time for my fall?
But can you even call it that,
For many who have come down have not fallen,
But have merely been pushed.
And now as I descend,
I am forced not to look up, but down.
Down where all begins,
Down where some, like me, will end.





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