It is hard to burn my bridges
when I am terrified of fire,
but I know that despite my fear
it is the action I require.
So I have lit myself a match
and I have closed my frightened eyes,
I throw it down on to the ground
and pray as the flames begin to rise.
As the smoke clears I look around,
examining my unburned hands
as empty as the barren ground
where all I'd known has left the lands.
Now I know I cannot go back
there won't be a bridge to be crossed
and though I came away unharmed
I wonder what I may have lost...
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