Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2021
The view from up here,
Is all I can see.
The train goes by,
The lights go by,
My life goes by.
It’s all that it ever feels like,
A bleeding lip.
Me, my body, this mind.
Alone up here, legs dangling off, listening to the wind’s
Cacophony of heroes.
Like hell,
Like, at any moment I could slip off,
Fall onto the train tracks,
Let it take this away.
Feel the cold air all the way down.
My back no longer up against a wall,
And my legs never finding their balance.
I dream of the train taking my mangled silhouette away from this cliff,
Away from this air,
Away, into the night, every night.
Rolling on, wheels painted with blood.
Never have to watch those lights again.
Jane Smith
Written by
Jane Smith
527
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems