I choke as I climb up for air, the purity of the wind foreign to my lungs,
the rope cuts the skin of my ankle, every bit of pressure stinging my open wound,
still I climb as this is the only escape, there is no other way to get around,
the pull is so strong, so forceful that I fall back to the bottom once or twice,
your might tugs insistently on the deterioration of my physicality,
the force smothers every inch of me that becomes more fragile, more weak,
my sight becomes blurry with the cries of desperation, of pleading,
still you have no mercy, no thought to let me go.