I grapple upon the slippery slope.
My frenzied eyes pleading for a rope.
My soul has died and thus my hope.
I'm slowly sliding from the icy slope.

The icy glare is also in her eyes.
Not a thread of mercy to idolize.
The gold haired beauty runs away.
I know her well this last painful day.

Now perpetually falling, gently turning.
My fate certain as is my yearning.
Why did I love her and speak it?
Now I think as my heart she breaks it.

Through the cold air I gently glide,
While I await my imminent collide.
What to have differed now with thought?
The epiphany is if I could I would not!

I know my fate is to be without you,
Have my tormented heart break in two.
My cruel empty soul's inability to cope,
Yearns for... the plateau above the slope.