A Pen’s Date With Death

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. 

Varna

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