I look down at the tracks as my feet touch down on small bridges.
The in between is rubble
like my mind
it’s messy, broken almost.
The rails that hold these little bridges are hard, strong.
What I try to make perceivable to others.
But then again, lying is wrong.
Sometimes there are cracks in the bridges,
like the cracks in my heart growing deeper.
The cracks turn into ravine
Suddenly, the once sturdy bridge crumbles.
I miss the next one and I fall into the rubble, only to crack more of my little bridges.
However, I always find a way to reach the rails in time and get back up onto my little bridge
But sometimes….. I still pray for the train.
-Chandler Miles-