a random poem i wrote

The hardest decision in life
is choosing which bridges to cross
and which to burn

Long ago, a bridge was built,
and I decided I would cross it.
It was long and narrow,
broken and rotting,
but I did not notice
until I had already set food
upon it.

Although I couldn’t see the other side,
I knew what was there,
and I knew it was what I wanted.

So across the bridge
I had decided,
for the other option
was to burn it.

A struggle, it was,
crossing this bridge,
and leaving others behind.
But as my heart had told me to,
I continued,

until I reached the halfway point.
It was here that I discovered
the bridge I swore was mine to cross
I had once shared with another.

It was this other who,
with my own match,
had burnt the bridge,
but only to the point
on which I was standing.

I cannot simply turn around
for fear the bridge has weakened 
and will crumble
under my weary feet.

I cannot continue
moving forward,
for I have nothing
to move forward on.

To burn the bridge
would be a worse fate,
for I, with no escape,
would burn
along with my beloved bridge.

I cannot cross.
I cannot burn.

So here I sit,
in the middle of
a crumbling bridge.