by Adam Gill
An introspective piece from my publication "Life Bites"
Hurtling along my synapses - all screaming angry and red,
I'd catch one if it slowed enough to get me through the door,
But the stations along my Main Line closed up years before.
There goes one full of Angst, heading for the end of the line,
Smashing through the emergency barriers built inside my mind,
Exploding into myriad pieces, each fireball a tiny thought,
Pulling itself together again, that monstrous juggernaut!
Fear – and Anger, Faith – and Strength all hurry on by,
Individual thoughts blurred and slurred, the harder that I try,
Sat up inside my signal box, pulling levers to control the pain,
Even though I know I've lost control of every single train.
The express to Stress Central is never far away,
It travels ‘round and around my head, every single day,
My thoughts cling grimly to the top as it clears a bend,
Forever going in circles – no beginning and no end.
The Four-Fifteen to Darker Days is always bang on time,
Four-fifteen every morning it wakes my sleeping mind,
The whistle screams as it streams through my weary slumber,
I'm forced to count every carriage and note down the number.
Past and Present, Future and Beyond travel on the same track,
I struggle to see the difference as they bound there and back,
I catch a glimpse of myself in a carriage, years from now,
Still sitting on the same train – but strangely different, somehow.
Just as I think I've got it beat and my eyes start to close,
A single carriage rolls up and stops – right there, under my nose,
I peer up at the driver-less window and there hangs a rope,
I reach out as it pulls away, slowly – the last train out to Hope…