I lie at the bottom of a seemingly endless chasm,

Several ropes hang down, a hopeless attempt at hope,

As the ropes can barely scratch the surface of the endless pit,

I decide to become familiar with what feels like the deepest depths of this world.

My eyes give me no aid, as the only thing near me is infinite blackness, the only reprieve from that is an eternity up where I spy the ropes, hanging, tantalizing, meaning well as well as being meaningless. They climb their way back to the light, in the forever distance, I can see the radiant glow, and can almost hear the laughter and the reveling. I know it exists, out of my reach.

I come to my feet, taking in the stagnant air of the lonely scape. It's rank yet empty odor fills my sense of smell. I choke and beg for help as I can feel attempts of those above to help me. The ropes, however remain too short, and I, again, remain an afterthought.

I step forward. The ground is hard, cold, and unwelcoming. A freezing chill dances around me, reveling the same way as those above. It teases me, feeling free as I am trapped, even in my prison I am an unwanted guest. I hug myself for warmth, a memory of the time I could I feel such a sensation, but it seems that this void is devoid of anything warm.

I sigh. This is not a good a place to be, but it seems that it is my place to be. I will not get in the way of those in the light, and their ropes still bring me the smallest sense of comfort. So here I stay, at the bottom of my chasm, accompanied only by the bitter cold that flits around me. I sit. And I stay.