The whistle sounded, the train chugged
The journey began as many unplugged
Fates were rested on solid tracks
Scraps of iron responsible for their backs

Compartmentalised boxes carried varying stories
Some call it a divide, others settle for categories
Some boxes resplendent with ornaments and gilding
Others modest with unembellished finishings

Whatever the setting, the views didn't discriminate
One only had to look out if one had to rejuvenate
The landscapes never spoke, but the passengers listened
As if nature's lyrics were intently written

Each swayed by the drama of their lives
On a journey assumed with predestined stops
No one saw an impending halt
On unfinished tracks and an unexpected drop

If unspoken words were to be exchanged,
What would they have been
If unasked questions were to be answered,
Would they have freed one from within