The Ice

by an·gel·boy

It's 3 AM now, and the road has been empty for hours

No city lights are with her as she dreamt rose garden dreams and flowers

With her trench coat on, feeding her body with feeble heat

Driving fast in her vintage car, battered by the cold street


She's been driving for ages in the dusk, going an unrelenting 120

Though her face is illuminated with the headlights, darkness kept her murky

As if her welling dejection and sadness wasn't enough,

The frigid winter night had struck her with a bleak cuff


At long last, the woman gazed away from the windshield

Looking up to see the overbridge before her vehicle, neglected and concealed

The bridge that claimed the lives of many, the height being the last height they see

She wondered of the souls that once stood there, jumping to their ends to flee


"What a tragedy," she whispered in the cold, now going about 130

She drove under the bridge as the peculiar darkness ended abruptly

As her heart beats faster in her chest, so did her ice-crusted car

She passed the haunting bridge, into the snowfall, and saw glittering black ice from afar


She used to wonder the final thoughts made by those who stood on the bridge's verge

What kind of tears they wept, and what sense of comfort emerged

Yet now, for this one moment, she knew the answer already

After all, what were these thoughts in her head that made her unsteady?


The car crashed through the highway fence and into the frozen lake

And along with it, the woman plunged as well, eyes closed yet still wide awake

The dark waters have claimed her life, her doomed life as the other woman


And now, encrusted under the ice is the face of a woman that no one knew

Her skin as cold as the waters that drowned her, her dead eyes coloured blue

It's 5 AM now, and the road has been empty for hours

No city lights are with her as she lay dead, dreaming of funeral flowers

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