i've always walked this bridge; i know it like the palm of my hand. sturdy old bridge, connecting two patches of land. as time goes by, the bridge starts getting wobbly. i now get anxious every time i cross the river. i tried holding onto the rope but it felt like it was so ready to let me drown. every step i make is a horror waiting below. the planks i'm stepping on were so worn and torn. there were missing planks every other step and every other step i make, i could hear the creaking of the woods get drowned by the loud river. when i was halfway through, i looked in front of me, there i realized that the more i try to cross this bridge and hold on tightly, the more it's quickly giving up. more than crossing the river, i need to save myself before i completely lose myself.
and when i ran back to save myself, that's when the bridge crashed down. i knew it was better to trust my gut and not try to cross it anymore. the bridge did not burn but it did crash and fell to the river's strong current.
and i'm not even talking about bridges.
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letters after dark | poetry book 3
Poetrya collection of poems and proses of thoughts that fill up the void after dark. #1 in proses #7 poetry #56 in poem #5 poetrycollection book 3 of the poetic flowers series. other books : • a hurricane of blues • confessions i will never say and other...
