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TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
Parallel lines do not meet.
Together they travel,
all through a lifetime
savouring the solitude
of each others company.

Intact they keep their uniqueness,
never crossing each other's path, giving space
to the other to bloom,
flourishing in each other’s company.

Parallel lines do not meet
when they meet, they die!
Railroads always fascinate me!
Isabella Terry Mar 2018
My brain is a train,
Left the station in the rain,
Crashed directly into pain,
Now derailing and deranged.

Who drove onto the tracks?
Put their car into my path?
Now I’m burning in the grass,
Watching everybody pass.

No one’s calling 911,
Do they think I’m having fun?
They look like they cannot see,
Now they’re walking straight through me.

And I just can’t believe
I can’t get up to my feet,
I’m drowning in gravity,
I’m just another tragedy.
Tsunami Jan 2018
The train tracks raced.
Connected you to I,
Wound through some sort of subspace,
Fell asleep to their lullabies.

Under bridges.
Over hills.
Drink your courage.
Swallow your pills.

The train tracks ran,

abandonment is a hard pill to swallow when home never existed
Such small things: a farm in the north, a plantation in the south.
A small urban home rather than
A mansion on the edge of an enormous field.
Paved roads and rail road tracks inside cities instead of
Gravel paths through paths of trees and cotton fields.
Business men walking by or a rich plantation owner
With two African slaves at his side.

They can cause conflict, major differences.
Political views and moral issues.
How the country should be run?
How the people are to live?
The laws and abilities surrounding slaves?
Is it right to own another human?

— The End —