Camping on Thorns

The bitter wind wisps across my face and nibbles at my cheeks,

Winding my hair around and around,

I'm standing at the edge, right there on the edge,

With my feet tightly stuck on the ground,

No words can explain what I'm feeling right now,

But I know jumping will be the worst thing,

I must do it to make myself happy,

So I jump off of it and spring,

My life is held in the air,

Adrenaline pushing and pushing,

The sharp thorn shaped rocks at the bottom will kill me,

And the wind is by my ear shushing and shushing,

Camping on thorns,

I lay on the ground,

My nightmare had finished,

But now, due to my sleeping bag, I was bound.

The End

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