My train was moving way too fast
So I Stepped out on the cold gray tracks
It was good while it lasted..
while it seemed that I didn’t care
But all the hurt and the pain
and the suffering is still there
Treated like dirt between the rails
Neglected and lonely on these empty trails
The breaks of the train scream in my head
It doesn’t matter if they stop
because I’m already dead.
This poem was written/submitted by Cortney Fullerton.