You say you want to build bridges,
but how can you do so when you lack foundation?
Your pride buried six feet underground,
as they tell you what to think, what to do, what to feel.
You smile and nod to their insults and lies,
in return you suffocate—
screws tightening your lips shut,
wood planks splintering your soul.
Your roots have lasted generations,
yet you always end up on your knees,
groveling for their acceptance,
as your perception is torn down.
A bridge is a pathway to a new beginning,
not a means to an end. For a bridge to be sturdy,
each column must stand strong on its own.
Caffeinida 