At The Core Of Forgotten

-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.