Bridge Over Troubled Water

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The sidewall has cement walls lining them with deep green ivy flowing down the sides. I stand at the corner of a balcony looking off into the distance. It was about midnight. Quite is the night within the stars turning from the blue into the black. Two bicyclists pedal passed on the street with no cars. I wonder what it’s like to be them. To not be on a balcony, to not be wondering what will be my next move. All I know is that I came here with suicidal intentions. I just know there is a bridge lit up in the distance. Looking down, I see reddish brown cement tiles and think to myself that this might be it. That if I came here tonight to do what I intended on doing I wouldn’t focus on the bridge. That tonight could be the night I don’t have to be submerged into the troubles of time, the weights of life and the distance to feel whole once again. Tonight I couldn’t decide, I just knew change was holding on just like the effects of my medicine. Help was beyond me just like the bridge over the troubled water that could result in an untimely death anyway. My friend ran out and yelled my name. Putting her arm around me I looked to that beautiful bridge light up with the night as bright as the sunniest day. I remembered the bicyclists headed through the neighborhood of her balcony, so desolate this moment. As they are, my mind is swift as I try to decide my next turn. Will I or wont I? But what does it matter now anyway? Like the image of the bridge I grow more bleak with time. Slowly passing in the effervescent clouds of the night.

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