Brooklyn Bridge

When it’s dark outside,

and when there’s no light,

who cares if I’m crying on the Brooklyn Bridge?

.

When I don’t know where I am,

and the people around me are strangers,

who can blame me if I die in loneliness on the Brooklyn Bridge?

.

When my wounds are carved in the cables of steel,

who cares if I kneel down into the mud on the Brooklyn Bridge?

.

When lies are making me afraid,

and when my spine is breaking into two,

who cares about me while I’m hopelessly suffering on the Brooklyn Bridge?

.

When I’m bleeding,

nobody’s here to care for me,

nobody’s here to heal me on the Brooklyn Bridge.

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