the train that isn’t there 

Waiting for the train.

There is none.

Here I stand with many other passengers.

They shuffle to the dangerous yellow edge

Looking over the precipice 

For a train that isn’t there.

I hear the crinkle of an empty water bottle. 

We’ve drank all the water

And now I’m getting thirsty 

Waiting for a train that isn’t there.

I wonder if I should I take out my book to pass the time

Or remain here present

Soaking up all the negativity around me

Manifesting into the pain that is slowly creeping its way into the back of my right knee

It reminds me of the pain I felt the day my grandmother died

Wondering what the pain meant 

In the same way I wonder

Where this missing train is

As we wait 

For the 

train that 

isn’t 

there–

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