it was the landing, not the fall

I’m falling 

and falling 

and my back is 

burning 

but I’m freezing 

cold 

cold 

and the wind is 

rushing 

and howling 

louder than ever 

but it’s so quiet. 

I should be screaming 

but I don’t know 

if I am because 

this falling 

is full of more 

freedom than 

flying. 

The sun is 

growing smaller 

and the ocean 

is getting closer 

and there’s a crash 

and silence

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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