The setting sun, and the soft mist,
as if summer and winter had a tryst.
A bridge so high, leading to the other side,
a simple walk across, after this rough ride.
One traveller alone, long I stood at the edge,
holding in my hand, nothing but a messy sketch.
The trip was almost over, this was the final step,
the last moment, where I untangle from this web.
But, to cross to the other side, I must pay,
the tool after the journey, after finishing this race.
But my coat pocket lay empty, I have nothing on me,
and the messy sketch I have, isn't enough to set me free.
Though I must move forward, for there is no way back,
once and for all, I knock on the door to black.
But having no way to cross this bridge so tall,
I simply look down, take a leap, and fall.