I am desperate,

The agony is unbearable,

My grasp quenches the urge to tear this man apart,

A gentle breeze would be enough to persuade me otherwise,

Were I not so heavily set in place I might have given his death hasty aid already,

His eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull just on the cusp of death,

Yet still he receives enough oxygen to stay death’s hand,

The blistering sun shades me from my freezing veins,

We are locked in a never ending game of life and death,

Who will give first?