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My Last Train Journey
The Earth shook beneath my feet and the trees swayed,
The wind took its own course and I was late.
The moment felt wrapped in a dark sheet,
With me not being able to get past,
The white line stretched beneath me
As I stood there for hours.
The train whistled nearby and its smoke vanished in the grey sky,
A raindrop fell onto the dark skin, covering my sharp cheekbones
Or was it a tear that had fallen from my eye?
For a moment time stopped and I took in the whiteness of the line,
Stepping on it would take me to a different place
One where unpunctuality was a crime.
Coming back to realisation, I made my way towards the black train,
With my bag hanging loosely on my shoulders, followed by the merciless rain.
Boarding it, I fell back on the first seat,
As others climbed in,
I felt like I had plunged into a heatless heat.
There are moments when we go wrong,
In those times, when we are weak from the inside,
We have to fight and stay strong.
I am not the culprit, nor am I the victim of this game,
It happens to many and for all, the ending is the same.
There is no hope in the blackness of the train or the greyness of the disappeared smoke and sky,
We don’t get strength just like that, but when we fail after several tries.
I notice all those who surround me, moving along with the wheels,
Some laughing, others sad, it is moments like these that cancer steals.
I am not like a soldier, not afraid to die,
Nor am I like a lost runner, who gives up with a sigh.
Because, I am from that white line and the black train and the grey sky,
From that raindrop, to the last try.
The train comes to a stop and I feel alive again,
And even though the seed of death is planted inside of me,
My life it can’t end.
I search the platform and make my way towards that white line,
Where my answer is hope and my time is strength,
Where my eyes see a bright sky and a yellow train,
Where the whistle that blew is music to my ears,
And the smoke never disappears but blows till no end.
I enter a world, where Death is my friend.