I burned the bridge

waterfalls under brown bridge
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com


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



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