I went to the edge of the bridge to jump
and to drown at it’s bottom
I went to the end of the bridge to just give God a letter
to give me safe passage
to enter His home
All that I had given
was covered for not being enough
my glass heart and my tender soul,
the voice that sung truth like a lullaby
and a spirit that was born knowing how to fly
at the edge of a bridge
being put through a pain
too unbearable to watch,
I want to jump
In a day I might be found
if not I hope my memory to be appreciated
when I am no longer living in vein
when I am no longer carrying my soul on my shoulders
when I come to the bridge-
I will jump
in want to live again
--Butta Love, the provocative verbalist
