The Place

April 30, 2012
Past my house,
Past the car bridge,
Where I go,
To think,
To hang,
To get away,
To cry,
I walk along the back road,
Where the train came rushing through,
Along that secret road,
There are three mini train bridges,
The first one I sit,
On the cement block,
It’s huge-- it holds up the bridge,
I sit upon it wishing,
Thinking,
Dreaming,
For a friend to come along and take me away,
I get up,
Start to walk to the next one,
I walk through this passage,
And there the second bridge waits,
For me to throw the rocks with wishes upon them,
They splash on the water and I can hear the water say,
Your wish will never come true,
But I keep up hope,
I walk to the next one,
Pickup sticks,
And I feel the bricks,
Of lost dreams weighing me down
I wish I could just drown,
But I’m already drowning,
With lost hope,
I get to the next bridge throw the sticks of hopes and dreams,
Into the water the splash says keep up hope but no one will come,
I turn around the lost hopes and dreams weighing me down,
I kick the rocks and sticks that let me down,
Over the second one,
Walk through the passage way of lost hopes and dreams,
And I see my bridge,
That holds me when I’m sad,
It tells me when I’m crying silently,
That the other bridges have lost hope too,
They just know that you still have a chance with your dreams,
The wind hits the rusty metal sides that I lean on,
And I hear it whispering that it will all be ok soon.
The End





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