Falling

Sequal to I Am Dead.

Of course
I am still ailing.
I have none to live for.
This abyss still holds me captive;
As if I belong to it, as a slave, as a possession.
My hands fling around in the air, reaching for something,
Anything,
To catch my fall.
There is nothing there;
Nothing but air, cold and brutal.
So why am I still suffocating, what is binding me?
When shall I be relieved of this never ending nightmare?