Hope is the bridge,

Between despair and joy.

Desperately, we run,

With tear Street cheeks,

And arms out stretched,

With eager steps and broken hearts,

Still pounding, pounding.

But the bridge is long,

It stretches on for Miles,

And what becomes of us,

When the bridge begins to crumble,

When iron turns to dust,

Beneath our bruised and weary feet?

With blistered toes,

And bloodstain shoes,

My lungs catch fire,

Smoldering right through my skin,

But I keep running,

Running…