Passengers

My train is always speeding; thundering down the track at full speed. 

It heads nowhere in particular.

Whenever it stops to unload a thousand passengers, a thousand more board. 

Most are unwelcome.

Most have Silver's face and extremely loud voices. 

Of him they speak of what I want, fantasize about and doubt.

The reast have various faces, speak of various topics and are just as negative; 

my face a relfection of theirs.

Even whaile at work; performing the most complex of tasks... 

It's not enough of a distraction.

Whether you write journal entries, stories, memoirs, letters to yourself, songs or poems...

It helps to unload those passengers, to prevent each car from exceeding maximum capacity.

Not all will exit willingly thus half-to be forced;

my steel-toed ink pen giving them the boot.

As the driver, fireman and cunductor

I alone carry the keys to stress, anxiety and depression relief.

Aattached to my ring: a pen, little notebook, Notepad app, journal and laptop.

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Fitzy Marlote

This poem pretty much sums up why I've written most of the poems I have posted thus far.

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