Derail

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Derail

The train went off the track

in a violent whirlwind tumble.

And now I wake up from a daze

in a forest of mangled steel and flame.

Everyone else stays on the ground, dead and bloody.

There's a deep gash above my right eye,

bloody and dark,

but I'll just stitch it up on my own

and limp away on a ruptured heel.

That's how I've always done it,

no help from anyone.

Where the hell am I?

All I know is, I have to make it

To where I was going.

Walk off into the horizon, as the sun sets

Into the sea of mountains.

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

spectrevampire’s Poems (9)

Title Comments
Title Comments
You and Me 0
It Will Be Summer Soon 0
Fairy Spring 0
Dead Idols 0
Bird of Prey 0
Envy 0
Derail 0
Afternoon with Mrs. Sanders 0
Bride from the Spring 0