Melancholia

Railways

Railways that go nowhere
Branches of greenish life
Stable roots
Rooms of singing birds
There's a symphony
A silent melody
It wanders through voices
Of bored shoes
They tap tap tap
When the wind blows
They tap tap tap
When the symphony is playing
Yet no one can see through
If not their ephemeral shoes
Their ephemeral fingers
And their ephemeral eyes
What am I doing here?
I should be listening to violins
Playing in the dark
I should be listening to
The sound of birds
But I'm trapped here
Between chairs and sunken memories
What am I doing here?
I should be running free
But I'm trapped here
Between regrets and mistakes
What am I doing here?