He steps over the ledge,
One hand holding on
To the cold steel.
It bites into the joints
Of his slender fingers.
He looks down,
But finds only darkness.
"Strange, I thought I'd see the waves,"
He strains to hear
The sound of the water beneath.
"I like the waves,"
But his last sight will be
This old bridge.
No trains have passed here
For some time.
Abandoned, void of interruptions.
As he had planned,
In case he loses his nerve.
A timid voice inside his head,
"Are you sure about this?"
He shuts his eyes so tightly
That they start to hurt.
Blood's pulsating through his temples,
Escalating until it's a roar
That drowns out all inquiries.
He lets his body sway closer to the edge,
Toying with gravity,
Arm outstretched,
Shaking to steady his weight.
Fingers unwrap.
His neck snaps
Meeting the glassy surface.
A moment of calamity.
One splash,
The night is silent once again.
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