
I burned the bridge,
For it led to the known station,
It leads me to containment,
It reassures and but it doesn’t satiates,
I still wanna walk a mile astray,
I burned the bridge,
It keeps me quiet,
It pacifies well.
The revolution inside,
I burned the bridge,
It’s too comfortable,
obstructing greatness,
The walked route,
It saves toil,
Takes away satisfaction,
I burned the bridge,
It gives what it wants,
It gives when it wants,
and I cannot receive,
I burned the bridge,
It wasn’t mine,
The bridge and me,
see across the ridge,
It reaches through me,
and I could reach through it,
But, of course,
I cut no deal with this bridge,
I will built my own,
From shrouded pensive molds of self,
It walks with me,
in me,
I need no bridge,
This path I know,
I must walk alone,
For all that paved path,
doesn’t lead,
doesn’t parch,
“I want to be loud,
I want to walk on thorns,
I want to smell the foul,
I rather be lost,
I rather foolishly chase,
than for this bridge to lead the way”
-Rupika Moitra