A mournful sound of a train
I’m not sure why
Makes me want to cry

Is it saying I’m going now
Like it’s saying goodbye
I might never see you again

Or is it saying i will be back soon
Wait for me
Don’t move

Pitiful mourning in the night
When everything is sleeping
Searing soulfully in the mist

Why does this sound
evoke emotion like this
I get up so it can speak to me

I grew up with it
It’s familiar to this child
A long comforting hug

Maybe it’s the strength
Maybe it’s the speed
Maybe it’s the a far off loud

A need to keep hearing
It's only a whistle
Holding in my memory

Emergency! Emergency!
My brain's siren blows!
We have to stop!
We must get off!
No no no.

Emergency! Emergency!
My brain will spin now.
It's just one lock,
Just rip it off.
No no no.

Emergency! Emergency!
I know it won't end.
My head screams die,
My hand grips tight.
No, no... No.

Emergency... Emergency...
The emergency stop is here.
If the train tips aside,
You could die...

It's better to be safe than dead.

My throat closes

Every single time

When I want to speak or let myself be heard, I close

I let others speak for me. In whistling tunes I found through the Tube or stories as told by those who live them

I find it is not my time to speak.

For only when I am utmost alone can I even utter a single sigh and still it displeases me of its occurrence

Perhaps voiceless to allow others the space they might need to be themselves. So why am I upset of it

Meek and meager
Never there when you need her
Your silence is louder than a train wreck.

hook a buddy up my heart
is racing
trapped in purple drops of rain
my pulse has been pacing
like a golden train

we were spacing
out for five hours
my words became your worst
your worst became my words

listen to your inner voice:
nobody is without...

Timothy looks away
Slightly disgusted
By those around
Flashing images
streak by
Gardens, yards
Car park
His breathing
Frosts the window
Sarah carefully
Places one ear pod
Into her ear
To listen to Handel’s 5th
Cameron looks
Shiftily down the aisle
For signs of
The trolley cart
That’s never on its way
Signs of passing stations
Shuttle by
Side streets
High streets
Cobbled streets
Timothy sighs
Opens a book
Pretends to be
Invisible
To fellow passengers
The train manager
Formally known as The Conductor
Announces
A delay due to points
Failure
Victoria
Wishes she hadn’t
Left Geoffrey
Last Tuesday
By the gas works wall
Lamp posts,
Telegraph poles
Fence posts
Flash by
A trainee
Train hygiene
Operative
Rustles a bin bag
And asks for *******
Thomas smiles
At the lady across the aisle
Who quickly looks
To the floor
Hedgerows
Sheep
Green grass
A tractor lazily ploughing a furrow
Sandra,
A mother looks embarrassed
Shushes, tries to smother the cries
Of her screaming child
Trampolines
Swings
Slides
Paddling pools
Rush on by
An old lady *****
Vigorously on a mint humbug
Whilst knitting in rhythm
With the motion
Of the train
Factories
Smoking chimneys
Industrial waste
Barren landscapes
Fly by
Terry
Anxious,
Gets up and shakily
Makes his way to check
That his case is
Still in the luggage storage
For the fourth time
Since The last station
Garages with rickety wooden doors
allotment sheds
Lock ups
Pigeon lofts
Pass by
The tannoy crackles
The announcement
That the train will soon
Reach the next station
And  
That
All passengers
Alighting Here
Be careful to take all belongings
And mind the gap
Over grown weeds
Wild rampant Budleahs
Self seeded trees
Glide past
The 3:58 from