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Riding on a slow train


Stop and go and

Stop and going

round in circles.


Persistent grinder just not shutting up.


She missed the peace train,

now this one has no destination.

Metre by metre grinding hope

to dust no good to the thirsty.

And the noise no more pleasant than the speed.


In anticipation of a good destination 

she keeps standing in her place.

There will be air and sun and wind.

No money to light up the tunnel but

we keep a bright spirit burning.


The need to squeeze and breath

between the bodies.

She stands alone with

External Smile

and internal Pain.

Only the eyes not to lie.


Destination overdue by by years

her hope stands cemented in dust.


At least it's a place to call her own,

why jump off

at destination unkown

and so hostile to victims?


And so she stands in a pool of dust

till nothing left to bleed.


Grinding on a slow train.

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