I feel like I've been holding onto this rope for so long. My hands burn as I slowly find myself sliding down despite my tight grip. Tears sting my eyes as I feel the muscles in my shoulders work whilst I attempt to pull myself higher to no avail. I grit my teeth to stop from screaming, not that I could if I wanted to with a throat so hoarse from crying.
Maybe I should just release my grip, stop fighting and let myself hang.
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Lachrymose
PoetryLachrymose /ˈlakrɪməʊs,ˈlakrɪməʊz/ adjective tearful or given to weeping. A collection of amateur prose and poetry illustrating the inner turmoil. Mainly a dumping ground for loose thoughts and ideas to be interpreted in whatever manner.
