Ignoring the fact that it has no engineman, no plan, no back-up, and it's passengers couldn't keep up.
My life feels like an empty train with no destination.
It's goal is to move away as far as it could with no hesitation .
Maybe I'm supposed to be the one driving.
If I do, then I might as well just forget about arriving.
Actually, can this thing even be on auto-mode? I see no concrete railroad track.
So far, I've been letting it do it's job and fall back.
But lately it's moving so fast, I kind of want to go back.

Just a while ago I was in station twelve, I got distracted and wasn't aware of the train leaving. Ever since, I've been wandering around, grieving.  From time to time I would get glimpses of my train. I would call out for it, but it refused to stop or even slow down. So I chose a town, and settled in. It was called town sixteen. Before I got comfortable, my train came by to fix it's engine. And I was getting sick from my routine. So I decided to get  in, and it was great.
Little did I know that this joy was yet to fade.
I got to see all sorts of  forgotten views: passion, friends, peace, God...
Little did I know that the temporary serenity was a fraud.

As we approached station seventeen, the train was gaining speed. "Slow down!" To the thickheaded machine I plead. I was not keeping firm ground. That before I knew it, I fell to the ground.
Out of the train I was shot.
My face felt hot.
Covered in blood and broken glass.
I have completely ruined someone's freshly cut grass.
I was so embarrassed and miserable, my own train threw me out.
Full of self-doubt
I decided to out run that thickheaded train.
I ran and ran and ran...
but in vain.
After some struggle, I came up with a simple plan:
to follow the most used railroad.
The freshly traced marks on the sand, I followed.
Thus, I arrived to the common land.
Everyone was so busy, going in all different directions at impossible speed. That no one bothered to give me a hand.
Not that I cared anyways.
For I too had my ways…
Ways that I hoped to discover anytime soon.

But to save others, One shall not need to be saved

Looking at myself in the mirror.
I would wonder how can I see the person within clearer.
I have never thought about the thing residing inside as myself.
It always felt like somebody else.

As a matter of fact, I never seriously tried
to study what's inside.
The fear that I would encounter something unpleasant made me want to hide.
"What is inside doesn't exist tell you look inside." I lied.

I liked to think of my soul like Schrodinger's cat.
Both dead and alive at the same time.
Due to this misperception of mine,
my heart and mind were in endless combat.
Every time
I would take a sneak peek at myself I felt like I have committed a grave crime.

The truth is, I was ashamed of who I am.
An average person, with no heroic purpose.

In order to gain ever so little serenity,
to live in minimum concordance with my identity,
to keep my sanity:
I acknowledged the person within.
But not as an equal to me,
but rather as an outsider.
One who in my eyes portrayed society's collective advice.

Yet there was my heart and mind as well.
The old foes.
To this unbalanced couple, my soul became the third wheel.
I think it's fair ​to say that I live in chaos. In constant doubt.

Such a life can be tiring.
But to constantly be on the lookout for contradiction can also be inspiring.
In this mayhem of mine.
I found a home, which I like to call: "myself".

Standing in the middle of an old telephone booth all alone.
Distantly listening to that dialing tone.
Knowing that no one will be on the other side of the phone,
Because they are long gone.

She was the only home I have ever known,
But now she is just flesh and bone.

How could she leave so early?
Her who loved the world so purely?
Her who treated me so fairly.
Her whom I've loved so sincerely.

Tears filling my eyes,
Only to realize,
That what we had was everything but lies.

But now it’s already too late.
For in our last call, I stupidly hurled out hate.