This isn't what he imagined,
The sky was supposed to be blue.
And his friends were sure to stick
With him and walk with him right on through.

Yet there he was left standing,
Left alone to find his way.
"Once you cross the bridge,
You'll never return!"
Mother would always say.

His finger bleeds from the roses,
The road covered in
Needles and thorns.
Why didn't his friends greet him
As much as they did before?

He meant to have so much joy
On the other side of the bridge.
But now he must venture
Through the trees
And find how he must live.