The Bridge

The Bridge I used to stand on that bridge, light up a cigarette, and just think. Look out into the never ending sky, and count clouds. Stare at the muddy water, and wonder just how far down it goes. I contemplated death on that bridge. Crying invisible tears, hating life, wondering if I had the guts to end it all. I didn't. Instead, I watched the silver fish swim by. With no worries, just doing what fish do.