You wanna make it better,
You're more like a molester.
Not psychical don't get me wrong.
But we don't even get along.
Writing everything down.
With your imaginary crown.
Nothing but a clown.
You just stare and judge,
Asking crazy questions and such.
Why do you act like this?
Hey, I don't know ****!
How should I know why I act like I do,
And why the hell should I tell you?
Once trusted you just tell everyone,
About what a monster I've become.
Hard to handle, special school,
telling my parents what to do.
Hell fool, ***** you.

Test after test.
It's getting me upset.
Full of regret.
Why am I working along.
I should be ******* gone.
Trying to be strong.
Staring at the clock.
Hoping that it will stop.
Another fake smile.
I'm not worth the while.
Is what you're thinking.
Your hope is shrinking.
Mine was never there.
So why should we care.
You guys never did anything.
Wasting my time if anything.
So this one is for all the suckers.
Who ran out of luckers.
Meeting me, made you ****** up.
So don't ******* hate, just **** up.
That I'm a better person then I was.
So here is my sarcastic applause.
Cuz in the end I made it.
And you are still ****.
Being 50 and talking to kids.
So I say **** the system.
Peace out, Chanice
A.K.A. another victim.

The gates open,
the Masses rush through,
flowing like water and filling all space,
I am last on the train,
And just barely,
the gates slam my sides to remind me that I almost missed my ride.

There is a gloom in the air and it tastes like disappointment,
Kind of like when you leave French toast out too long after breakfast has been served,
It's old and stale and just not as it should be.

Long faces run for miles down the aisles,
every space in between is filled with resentment and bitterness,
This is not a feeling but a truth for New Yorkers on a long train ride home.

Amidst this gloom,
Rises a cheery little voice,

At first it's very faint,
Like a mouse amongst worlds,
But it begins to rise and grows more confident with every spoken word.

Wrapped in a violently pink scarf and topped with a baby blue hat with arms dangling down to her shins,
This voice construes words so simple and pure that the average heart can't help but to smile.
Even the tough souls,
The real down-on-their-luckers,
smirk and snicker as she reads.

The hero falls,
She cries out with angst!
The hero rises,
She cheers!
By now she has a following of non-admitters,
gently leaning in to hear more,
Because that's what they're coming to see,
To put face to the E Train Angel they’ve heard so much about,

The story is stock and so are it's characters,
They have been used and reused to fit every sequence,
We all know them well,
But for her it is real and true,
and it is not just a story,
but her story.

She reads on,
Words flowing from her lips like the sweetest song,
No lyrics and all melody,
She sings,
And by now the whole train is listening,
Even those many carts away,
can here a faint whisper of something warm and sweet.

The train rolls into station,
and our little angel rises to depart,
Hearts hit the floor,
a sound echoes through the train,
and it's something that can only be described as gray,
A fleeting moment of nostalgia has been abruptly ended.
Gloom soon sets in as she heads for the open doors,

Bodies disperse in front of her like a parting sea,
Slow and steady, and with minor hesitation,
they move to let her pass.

She's gone.

And what more can I say than I am glad that I caught the Train that day.