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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1953584
The train has left the station. I am gone.
I packed my suitcase
For a rainy day.
The rain is here to stay,
I am not the same.

A day without a bone.
The telephone is ringing;
No one’s home.

I will leave like a spent tornado,
Like a ship in the night.
I will depart
Into the fog
And out of sight.

You will find me on the beach
Amidst old fish bones,
Bottles without messages,
As your charming faces
Look upon each other
With adoration,
I have gone.
My train has left the station.

In the winter time
You will remember how I hated the snow.

I am Thursday’s child
With far to go.

I have gone.
The television plays
But nothing’s on.
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