Losing My Grip

Fingers slipping,
edges blurring in the rain,
echoes of my sanity,
I’m calling out in vain.
The ground beneath is cracking,
skies begin to rip,
every hold is fleeting,
I’m losing my grip.

Visions of tomorrow
are like smoke against the sky,
grasping at the fragments
as they whisper by.
Haunted by the could-have-beens,
I trip on every dip,
running out of reasons,
I’m losing my grip.

Twisting in the freefall,
can’t tell up from down,
echoes in the darkness,
wearing thorns for a crown.
The void calls seductively,
my resolve starts to chip,
holding onto shadows,
I’m losing my grip.

Whispers turn to shouts
as the void draws near,
each breath a battle,
confronted by my fear.
Gravel in my throat
as I try to quip,
voices growing louder,
I’m losing my grip.