“Leave”
“and the light wont blind you again.”
Her hands grew tired.
Her mind split into two.
The wind made her fingers numb.
What should she do?
What should she choose?
Time grew short.
Her fingers loosened.
“I can do it,”
“I can make it to the top,”
she said.
Panic set in.
Two fingers held her up.
Her soul was torn by the choice.
The blinding light,
or the pitch-black darkness.
Both were unknown,