The Rope

You cry for help, 

I come running and throw you the rope.

You grab it.

But rather than climb,

You gorge on selfishness.

Rather than pull yourself up,

You fill your pockets with pebbles.

Instead of reaching for me,

You start rooting to the ground.

You cry again,

I hold tight the rope we never let go.

But with all your extra weight,

You can’t climb

And I can’t pull.

Every now and then, I feel a slight tug.

No longer hope,

But a distant memory into what we could have been.

It’s not fair of you to keep me tethered.

You cry for help.

I let go.