The Train.

The Train

Inside of my head, does live a very vein train,
It travels through sun; it travels through rain,
Sometimes I do wish, that the train would slow down,
And stop running at record speed; all throughout the town,
The train seems that it shall never be stopped,
Never be forgotten and never be dropped,
The train dictates my thoughts, and plans out my day,
It pulverizes rational linguistics, and can push the good out of its way,
This train does run on a very circular track,
And even though the world is black, it seems I can never turn back,
The train runs on rubies, instead of black coal,
It can vanish quicker than a rabbit, into its hole,
It is a very strange and creepy locomotive,
And impossible to census, or get a simple quote of,
It comes when it wants, and disappears when it feels,
But inside my head, I always feel it spinning its wheels,
They spin and they spark, in the light or the dark,
They mess with my thoughts, when they just want a lark,
The train ties the two ends, of a rational thought,
Together as a circle, and it ties a tight knot,
For, nothing seems more difficult, than a problem with no fix,
The train drives through my head, just to play tricks,
I doubt and second guess, every breath that I do take,
And I dismiss every deduction, that my sensibility does make,
How can I trust a creepy old train?
A train that makes me forever, live in such strain,
Perhaps if I took down the sign, within my mind,
The train would pass by my stop, and my thoughts would again be so kind,
Or perhaps one day, the train will eventually fall off its tracks,
And give me back what I once had, and what I presently lack,
This day will eventually come; oh yes, I’m sure it will,
If I keep talking, and I keep taking my pills,
The train is creepy, sad and confusing,
But this is a battle, I don’t plan on losing,
I know that one day the train, will run out of rubies and time,
And that is the day, that my life will be once again…mine.

Christopher F.