Time no more is cramped within
every hour that rings loud
here I stand by the speeding trains
lost amidst the bustling crowds
I've been pushed past by the growing night
and every other one that walks by
here it leaves me stumbling across
the gleaming dawn that never dies
my steps walk all the way back
to the place I am yet to find
as I wait for the midnight train
with no clear destination in
m i n d
.
YOU ARE READING
•WITHERING AUTUMN
Poetry•POETRY 'And I wither down to death just like the autumn leaves' ©maybeanerror 2021
