I feel the rocks beneath my fingers,
Their cold, sharp edges
Digging into my soft fingertips.
The fire burning in my arms
As I grip tightly to the cliff face.
My knuckles white with pressure,
My muscles straining as I hold on for Dear Life.
The sun
Beats down hot
And the air is dry,
Filled with dust.
My throat is too.
I don't know how much longer
I can hold on for.
I hear footsteps,
I yell,
Or at least I try too.
My voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper
And as the noises of people fade and die away,
So do my hopes of survival,
Of rescue.
My tears fall then,
Sudden, like someone turned on a tap.
The wetness of my tears
Is a refreshing change
To my dry hot skin
But soon they will dry up too.
I feel my fingers slipping
As my arms get tired and weaker.
The rocks start to disintegrate
From under my feet.
Soon I cant hold on any longer
And I fall,
And fall,
And fall.
The wind rushing through
Around my body
Feels almost good.
The last thing I see is;
That blue, cloudless sky,
That hot, red sun
And that high, dusty cliff
Before I stop falling
And hit the ground.