Dawning

Sudden, without warning, the crisis abducts us... Rhyming tetrameter.

I wake alone, a foreign space:
lost in time, adrift in place.

As these horrid thoughts collide,
I strain to soothe my core by will,
And yet the questions don't subside.
Won't this haunting voice be still?

Defeat I know, I understand!
But this? I'm Fallen — or never blessed!
What does this new distress demand?
The fading hope, my dreadful quest:

Hello, Mirror? I need to know:
Will I forever be so hollow?