The floor opens up beneath me,
and for the first time
I am free.

Floating and falling;
the earth rearing up
to meet me.

Mountains of mist
give way to my body,
stiff from the cold.

Grey light filters in
illuminating my own colors:
deeper and deadlier grays.

My vision’s haze clears,
and the ochre-colored land
beckons me onward.

The earth has done me no harm,
but something inside me
wants it to die.

Wind whistles by me.
I seek out my charge,
wondering if my frozen tears will melt.

I cry for my purpose,
knowing I could be used
for something better.

The ground is coming
I pick up speed.

The ground is coming
and the dunes roll by.

The ground is coming
and screams reach my ears.

The ground is coming
and all hope fails.

The ground is coming
and I rape the future.

The ground is com…

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...