18+ To me death by train is far more poetic than any that comes to mind. enjoy! |
-At The Core Of Forgotten- by Keaton Foster Here it comes The train Engine eight thirty six Out of Boston Arriving platform four Somerset Right on time Never is it late Fate predicted Or should I say Anticipated There it is Out of the night Out of the darkness Barreling towards me Unable to stop Even if it Or I wanted it to This is no Cry for help This is no Save me from myself This is the end Thus here I am Chained to the tracks Down on my back Facing the heavens Wondering to myself What is about to be next But caring less About the answer As the end gets closer Via that locomotive I know that I Won’t feel much Mostly the fear Mostly the idea But death itself Instant and certain Closer and closer still It approaches That train It won’t miss a step Onward to the next stop I’ll be spread From here to there And no doubt beyond Long before They notice the mess I’ll have been Long since dead Squished Ripped Torn from meat and bone Broken down Dismantled by weight Impact and self-hate My soul It will be where it has Always been meant to go At the core of forgotten Is where I am So is where I’ll be Life and death Will change either No one will mourn me Because no one knows me No one will feel sad Because sadness is connected To feelings and assurances No one alive relies on me If ever a human being Was superfluous I do declare it’s me These words All of them Hopeless diatribe All of them like me Doomed by weight To be ruined by time At the core of forgotten Is where I am So is where I’ll be The whistle again screams Closer and closer My end dare seems… At The Core Of Forgotten Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015. |