I’m falling down the rabbit-hole

with no clue of what I’ll find.

See magic has its different ways,

and who knows which is mine?

It could be dark and full of terror,

howling all through the night.

Or it could be lovely, nice and sweet,

where everything is bright…

But then again, it could be both,

with no certainty at all.

Or it could just be emptiness,

where all I do is fall.


The rabbit-hole is an idea I find in a lot of my poetry, its a metaphor for mental-health, depression, loosing yourself. In this poem, its a question about where my journey is going, will it be like my nightmares, or my wishes… or will it always go up and down, good and bad…. or will it never go anywhere, will I be in this constant feeling of trying to find myself.