A Poem

Just curious at to the thoughts of this poem I wrote, unsure where this would go exactly.
The Hand of Hope
I awoke in the vibrant plains of my youth, the wind was blowing and the sun, a shining beacon of hope in the sky, but as I felt myself grow older the once green grass started to decay to an orange, the ground sunk with water as those plains turned into a decaying swamp, where life was dark and escape was a mere illusion.
I ran in all directions and the same patterns repeated, dead trees and mucky ground every way I turn, sometimes I see a faint glow, What was this glow? Was it the sun of opportunity from my youth or a mere delusion of what once was? I always ran to the glow but every time it was within my palm it vanished, leaving behind a dark veil, turning the already hallow and lonely swamp into a place of even more darkness. I felt my mind twist, from hopeful to accepting of my seemingly unending sorrow, The glowing lights became less frequent, the meaning of going on soon became clouded to the point where vision was neigh impossible. I fell into a pit, one of an infinite darkness of which when I hit the bottom there would be no return. Suddenly a hand burst out with a flash of light and grabbed hold of mine, the hand pulled me from the pit but when i got my feet there was not a single sign of the hand. A glimmer of hope that reignited my passion, giving up is an impossibility, I will escape this coma of sorrow, The light in my heart will never go out again Those who care are waiting and have not given up on me, I will not keep them waiting much longer.

 

you should form it it'd be better