You seek refuge in the cold air. All faith is abandoned, but yet you still hold on. Your finger is slipping, that last finger gripping the edge. Crying won't save you, but you still let the tears escape. There is always a light in the sky. Sometimes too bright, too hot and you just want it to consume you, lift you and place you on solid ground. Somedays you feel it would be better to let go. Just fall to your death, to your shaddering. Somedays you rebel death, knowing you can be better, better than the end. Seeing the canyon bellow your swaying feet, there is life. You notice that you're using that ledge, that you are not a part of that cliff. You are a second-hander. So you climb up and sit on the ledge. Realizations flood you... you may fall again but now you have a choice. To stay or to go.

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