#rhythmickwriting

My fragile skeleton, I will be reduced to powder at any given moment—

I’m careening. I can’t see through the rocks, the dust, the metal covering my face—

And when the light seeps in through the cracks, I hiss and scream—

Writhing in my cocoon. My fingertips are bloody and ripped to the bone—

From gripping the edges of the cliff too hard. And I can’t let go—

I’m floating there

Alone, eyes in the distance winking at me in the seconds I can see outside—

They are mocking me, tracing the lines of my face. My face, my face, my face—

 A murmur. I open my eyes, and by the by it’s—

It’s a friendly star I’m passing by—

It’s warm, but not in a suffocating way.

Rays illuminate the bloody stumps of my fingers,

Soothe my hardened skin. My muscles relax, and—

Rocks drift away slowly, slowly—

My parched lips part, and I greet them—