I'm hanging on a rope
By a thread
Clinging to you
You comfortably stand at the top, oblivious that you hold my existence in your seemingly empty hands
I wish I had a better grip
So you could gracefully pull myself Up and land on your arms
But alas, I can barley cling to the scrap I have left
Can you not hear my calls of despair from below
Am I a voice merely echoing in my own existence?
Or do you mute my deafening please?
I'm hanging by a thread
Waiting for you
