The girl stands on the bridge,
Looking into murky waters,
Searching for a sign.  

Her grief and confusion,
Deeper and darker,
Than the river churning below.  

She edges forward on bare feet,
Her pink-painted toes clutch,
The cold concrete.  

My melancholy melody,
Beckons,
Snaking through the mist.  

Her eyes flash recognition,
My voice is familiar,
But not welcome.  

I’ve been singing,
Her to sleep,
For years.  

My lullaby,
Ensures her,
She is right.  

Right, to assume,
Life is rife with heartache,
Not worth living.  

Right, to believe,
She is unworthy,
Of love.  

Right, to consider,
Stopping the suffering,
Ending it all.    

I serenade her,
With lyrics that look,
Into her bleak future.  

Suffocating sorrow,
Constant disappointment,
A lifetime of loneliness.  

On this night,
My morbid melody urges,
“Come on in, the water’s fine.”  

She steps.
She screams.
She splashes.  

As she sinks,  
My last note rises,
With tremolo and triumph.