This is no Wonderland

I’m falling.
It’s dark here.
Dark and cold.
Dark and cold and empty.
I’m alone.
I feel like Alice,
But this is no Wonderland.
I’m all alone.
There is no White Rabbit,
No Cheshire Cat,
No Mad Hatter,
No March Hare,
No Queen of Hearts,
No Absalom.
Only me.

Will I ever stop falling?
Do I want to stop?
To stop would certainly be
To die.
No one will catch me.
The ground will not be forgiving.
For the first time, I have to wonder:
Am I falling?
Or am I flying?