It seems as though,
every day, something else
decides to give way.

Like an old wooden
bridge, crippling over
top of a dark pit.
Life can break,
letting you fall into
that deep abyss.

The one wood
plank, meant to hold
you high, gives up
and lets you die.

Life is the bridge,
you are the plank.
I have fallen,
and have you to thank...