There was a bridge twenty metres from my house

There was a bridge twenty metres from my house. 

Every morning when I was seven, I sat on the grass slightly in front of the bridge, almost underneath it.

watching the shadows on the rails of cars driving past. 

I would think about the girl who I shared my childhood days with.

I would think about the colours of the world, the brightness of the sun,

the water I swam in with talent I did not understand I possessed.

The girl would share her imagination with me,

showing me the colours of her world, and I eager and innocent,

would follow her anywhere she would go.

There was a bridge twenty metres from my house. 

Every morning when I was eleven, I sat on my fence as the light from the sun gleamed upon my hopeful face.

watching the cars deliver their owner to their daily vendettas. 

I would think about the girl I shared most of my days with.

I would think about the colours of the world, how the clouds created shadow, the water I swam in with a talent I began to understand I possessed.

The girl would share her secrets with me,

telling me the names of the boys her friends were dreaming for, and I young and curious, would listen to any word she would have to say.

There was a bridge twenty metres from my house.

Every morning when I was thirteen, I laid in my bed as my room filled with burning light,

watching red numbers change with every minute's passing.

I would think of the girl I used to share my weekends with.

I would think about the sadness in the world, how it catches those of it's choosing, the water I swam in with a talent I wished not to possess. 

The girl used to share her lips with mine,

before growing and venturing where a mother takes her children,

and I, young and hurt, would soon forget the feelings we once felt.

There was a bridge twenty metres from my house. 

One straining afternoon when I was sixteen, I stood past the railing as the sun showed signs of an afternoon glow,

watching the land before me sink into the nothingness I felt.

I didn't think of the girl I once shared my innocent longing for.

I didn't think of the darkness this world had showered on me,

how it took myself into its shadow, the water I no longer swam in, but let myself sink further and further into the nothing I possessed. 

The world I used to share my innocence with was faded,

left with the decay that was once a longing hopefulness,

and I, young and empty, would soon fall into the depth I belonged.