The bridge

Clarissa was alone
Alone in this world
No one took her seriously
Not even her family
Not in the way it should.
Clarissa, girl of pale countenance,
You who looked fixedly to the moon
Thousand and thousand times.
You who always challenged the world that surrounded you
One day so decisive you were
You walked a lot
You were marching to the grave
Crying, sighing her bitterness
She decided life was not longer safe
She stopped
At the bridge
Looking the water flow as a tempest
Down down in there
Up the bridge
She was waiting death
She jumped
And walked through the air
The fresh spring wind
Rushed through her breast
Blood ran down the river in that evening
In despair.