Dec 18

This Train on Which We Stand

The home we wait for
Has unknown coordinates
And we have no clue where we are.
We stand, tired and impatient,
For there’s no seat for those who dream
Aboard this train of reality
Through the window,
Rain’s all I see
A haunting reminder
Of dreams that many have abandoned.
But when I reach home,
There shall be no rain.
Just you and I,
Waiting for that one message
Of support.
The closer we get,
The heavier the rain.
Our minds scrambled
And us two scared that our dreams
Have been corrupted by this
Overwhelming idea
Of reality.
Our childhood memories only bring
About the dreams we had
Yet this rain won’t let up.
We’ve been on this train far too long
But the conductor won’t stop.
The people are average
And their eyes so dull
They all look like Porcelain dolls
And I’m too afraid to move.
Just one touch is all it would take
For this rain to turn to storm
And we share a terrified glance
As we realize just how close we are.
The train won’t stop moving
And the rain falls fast
As you’re pushed by your father
And those words spill out.
I’m the last left, and I’m so scared
And doubt corrupts my thoughts
As I look to your dull eyes.
You no longer stand, and my legs start to tire
These dreams that I have are
Looking so far away.
Then, you stand and walk over to me
And tell me those words.
The rain’s turned to storm
As I sit down quietly.
The train comes to a stop
But no one leaves.

 
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