The Bridge

With the familiar rage gone,
burned cold & dead,
he declares all others
against him.

His voice (too shallow & small
to manage the sturdy concrete rail
tells them, “You win,
all of you.”

And his words, like sad & wingless
sparrows, take their chances
against the wide open yawn of night,
leaping into the darkness, unknown.

The bridge, so high above,

the water below,
so deep… waiting.


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