Warnings: Suicide, suicidal thoughts
I went up to the bridge at dark
While the stars shone bright above
I gripped the metal in my hands
Giving myself a mental shove
But then the man was by my side
Although I did not hear him come
He greeted me quite jovially
Asked for my name and where I'm from
I spat the answers out coldly
Hoping he would get a clue
But he smiled and then said
How much he truly loved the view
He claimed he came here quite often
But rarely when the sun was out
His prattling was endless and
It made me want to scream and shout
Having had enough I left
I stormed away back to my car
Vowing to come back once more
As I drove to the nearest bar
But when I got there the next day
He was standing at the rail
He stared into the lake below
Seeming so depressed and frail
I think I must have made some noise
For when I looked upon him next
He was grinning ear to ear
And I was scowling, but, perplexed
Was what I saw in front of me
A mask that he put on his face?
Besides the view what was his cause
For coming to this lonely place?
We talked and talked for hours 'til
The sky above began to gray
He spoke of his lovely wife
And I of bills I couldn't pay
We said our goodbyes though I wished
Just a bit that we could stay
I asked to walk him to his car
But he said it was far away
I can't tell you how many times
I went and stood beside the man
Nor the day that I gave up
On what had been a foolish plan
Then one night the man was gone
For hours I stood there, alone
And while I wanted to be mad
I worried why he hadn't shown
I tried to look him up online
But couldn't help the rush of shame
When I realized that somehow
I did not ever catch his name
Still I searched and searched again
Until I found his face beside
An article thirty years old
Regarding how the man had died
His wife had passed in childbirth
The doctors thought his son died too
So the man jumped off the bridge
The father never even knew
The son, in fact, was still alive
With no one to look over him
No family on either side
His life started out rather dim
I don't know how I missed the signs
None of what he said was lies
I wish that I had known the truth
Or recognized his sky-blue eyes
I pursed my lips and took a breathe
Let out a broken, shaky laugh
Grabbed a bottle from my fridge
And drank on my old man's behalf
I decided to write a sort of short-story for a change. If you liked it, let me know! I might write more in this style:)
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Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)