These bridges that I now watch break,
from storms that overtook the night
with waves to wash the pain away,
have burnt with such regretful flame
when struck by that once wondrous light.
These bridges that I now watch break
into splintering ghosts that cry my name,
echo words of twisted spite
with waves to wash the pain away.
By my own hand alone lies blame
a saving torch, betrayed, ignites
these bridges that I now watch break.
“What do you want from me?” you say
as if to quote my desperate cries
with waves to wash the pain away.
Till emptiness, then, floods my veins
I will seek what’s lost—to fight
these bridges that I now watch break
with waves to wash the pain away.
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