She's running in broad daylight
No matter how hard she tries
Something always got in the way.
It was the back, or the migraine or just pure laziness.
The steroids ballooned her up.
She feared her life as everything got worse, but she was so young, it was just a parents code.
The ultimate evil thing to a child, but we don't seem to understand.
We don't know how it feels.
Not understaning with empathy as we should.
When things got too much, she run away to her place, locked in a shed with enough light.
She just wanted peace and quite.
She'd run away to kettel bridge, green and wonderful.
Metal and strong enough to hold her burden.
She'd stand for the wind to blow hard on her soft rosy cheeks.
Hearing cars passing by like life and time.
The sound became theraputic to her, as she was on this bridge quite alot of the time.
On the upside looking down.
The wind was her friend, although she never saw it, but it made her feel good inside.
It was like God, she knew God was there, but she couldn't see Him.
It was Him who ordered the angels to manage the winds.
It felt like she was flying standing on the bridge.
So high looking down.
She felt low inside, but the wind had an angels' touch, that made her feel fresh and good.
As she writes out her heart and her soul to herself.
Hoping someday, somebody would understand her pain that was unknown.
It was also her confusion with the truth and her idenity she was trying to find.
She lost her father and it was a big loss, she really tried to come to terms with who she was.
Who was the girl in the mirror, she knew daddy was in resting, which was much better than suffering.
She'd clear her mind of these unworthy feelings, write what her heart wanted to say.
She'd clean her soul and drain her mind and leave that beautiful which could be no more.
So many builders and scoffolding she hardly sees it, but she wishes God Forgives them if that bridge is no more.
As she really needs that bridge, nobody would care and get rid of it.
They'd just get her councelling when all she really needs is, fresh air, strong winds, paper, her feelings, emotions and her pen standing on the bridge.
She will write it all down and keep it with her, to remind her she'll always have that bridge as her 3rd eye to protect her.
If there is rain, she'd get soaked and her feelings wash away evaporate to a cloud where she'd find her emotions on a sunny day and write them all down
She was just a poet who needed to write.
She didn't need councelling.
Only thank God her wish is still here.
The bridge is still here.
Hoping it never goes away.
