The Train

I watch my sorrows as they bleed

Through the history of need

We took a chance,a chance did we?

 

And now we still haven't won.

So now our work is almost gone.

We weren't smart to play the game.

 

The game on the train,

goes around with people of vain.

Awaiting their break,

where ties were crossed ,

where people were once lost.

 

I once was there .

I didn't whine.

I didn't listen instead,

so now the world I knew has wept.

 

It has turn black as night,

where it used to be bright.

 

Cruel as the people who stand in it,

without much wit.

Like there is glaze over their eyes,

they do not see why.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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