The rope, once so strong

has worn thin.

I grasp the tattered threads

in my tired hands only to feel

it cutting and burning as

it slides through my fingers.

Letting go, with one hand,

I reach out for a hand that

was always there.

But I grope blindly at empty space.

Crimson liquid trickles down my

wrist as the rope cuts further

into flesh scoring bone.

My free hand catches a solid

piece of earth.

I cling to it with all of myself.

Slowly, painfully dragging my

beaten body to safety.

The rope snaps and falls to

an endless chasm below.

I stand and stare at the wasteland.

I stand...alone.