The Bridge

by Harshita Das aged 12

The water below us glittered venomously
The wooden steps crackled and creaked
The end seemed further and further away
With betrayal, the railings reeked

We both tried to rebuild and recreate
But distance decomposed, time left us tattered
And slowly, sea threatened to engulf us
As the fragile bond beneath us shattered

Now the bridge lies dead in dust
Both too prideful to build it again
The reminiscent were engulfed by the sea
Leaving only memories of pain

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