My Fight

The end is near,

I can feel it now,

Getting closer and closer with every step.

I meet my opponent but am too weak to fight,

Almost accepting that he will end my life,

Gradually, gratefully as each blow gets nearer,

Waiting now for the moment to end my terror.

Then It happens, with one last act. And it's over.

Slowly falling into that swirling abyss of content, and I'm gone.

Forever.

No coming back.

No second chances.

Reviews

[Aethereal]

Your poem expressed the hopelessness of an uneven fight. It inspired me to write this tiny gift poem for you which you may keep as your own:

Her Fight

Poor little fish,
her end is near.
Look at her swish
through waves of fear.

Her tiny wish
can’t stop a spear.
She’ll be a dish
boiled in beer.

[Sami Khalil]

Darkly written. Bravo.....................