A pen stabs at the cracks
Desperately trying to save its owner
From plunging to their doom
Into the cliff’s walls it digs its tip
Ink dotting the surface before it.
The abysmal pit beneath them
The elements against them
Its owner’s energy slowly depleting
Strength ebbing away and fingers,
Losing their grasp along with grit
With a grubby hand caked in grime
Moisture drips onto its plastic shell
From the sweat glands of the palm
Clinging on for dear life, slipping
Both literally and metaphorically.
Only a matter of time now,
Fingers start to weaken and slip
Just in a few moments, the pen awaits
Its perilous fate, falling into the depths
And so, they wait helplessly
As time seeps away
With every crumble and crack of the cliff wall
Efforts made to climb their way out
Proving futile as it was too steep,
Energy wasted, hopes dashed.
Thus, the owner and pen bid their time farewell,
Dreading their date with death.