theres a bridge built for crossing,
high off the ground.
we all have our own,
our own, safe and sound.
Some are filled with forests
of beauty and flowers,
others are white and black,
not a single color.
Mine is a little different,
a little different than most-
its a little cooler and darker
than all of those.
It used to be filled with
stars and fire,
and whatever else my heart desired-
but one day, a storm drew near,
brining lightning and thunder
with all my fears.
people soon began crossing over
my bridge,
tore the fences apart and
destroyed the ridges.
i grew weary, tired, fragile and
weak,
and I decided it was the time
to leave.
i took axe and raised it above,
dissipated hope and I rid
of love-
took the foundation apart and
the bridge came crumbling down.
It fell at my feet, destroyed
on the ground.
so no one comes in, or
no one comes out,
in or out of my
ruined little town.
