The setting sun, and the soft mist, 
as if summer and winter had a tryst. 
A bridge so high, leading to the other side, 
a simple walk across, after this rough ride. 

One traveller alone, long I stood at the edge, 
holding in my hand, nothing but a messy sketch. 
The trip was almost over, this was the final step, 
the last moment, where I untangle from this web. 

But, to cross to the other side, I must pay, 
the tool after the journey, after finishing this race. 
But my coat pocket lay empty, I have nothing on me, 
and the messy sketch I have, isn't enough to set me free. 

Though I must move forward, for there is no way back, 
once and for all, I knock on the door to black. 
But having no way to cross this bridge so tall, 
I simply look down, take a leap, and fall.