Answer: I couldn´t move anymore, I felt like i was gonna fall. Every breath was wasted as I helt on. Just looking down frightened me. But, I started to realize.. even if i fell to my death, No one would see and no one would care. I couldn´t hold on anymore. I slowly let go.... Falling peacefully. Wind blowing on me as i fall. I finally reached the ground, but i wasn´t dead. My arms and legs were paralyzed. I waited patient.... There i was knocked out cold and covered in snow.
My legs were sore, and felt numb as I continued to climb the glacier. I knew the cost of climbing here, nonetheless I wanted to challenge myself. Feel the cold breeze and satisfaction as I finished the climb. Also, wanting to brag a bit later to my friends about my feat. I reached my hand out to climb farther, as I got a sturdy grip I raise my leg to lift myself up, when my foot slips. I quickly recover, placing my foot in a more secure place. I peek down the mountain, I look to see a 20 foot fall. Noticing how real my situation was. Feeling the adrenaline pulse through my veins, I continue my venture.
I would say that a poem by a Romanticist will celebrate the individual and emotions, whereas a poem by a naturalist (or even maybe a realist) will be objective and nonjudgmental in its detailed and realistic portrayal of war.
