Riding on the train,
The windows show no scenery,
Only broken pieces
And bad memories.

Riding on the train,
Blurred images of rain,
And wet concrete
Slowly rotting.

Riding on the train,
No wars were lost or won.
Our tyrants were elected,
And cheered blindly.

Riding on the train,
Faces of old friends
Lost to distance and neglect,
Or death.

Riding on the train,
The rails become a band-aid,
Running over wounds
That never heal.

Riding on the train,
Surrounded by a flock
Of comfortable private cells,
With shiny screens.

Riding on the train,
Memories of naked skin,
Cheap whiskey,
And empty promises.

Riding on the train,
A roadside prophet preaches.
Neatly packaged hellfire,
No redemption.

Riding on the train,
I look into my heart
To find the cracks
That let the light get in.