My time is like a speeding train
And each person
Each commitment
Is another box car
Each mile
The speed increases
Broken tracks and curves
The chain breaks
I lose a car
My frame tilts and shakes
Praying it won’t pull me from the tracks
When it does,
I pry myself from the red mud
And the shattered glass
Of my fallen friends
Dented and tarnished
If I fall again
I will surely die
And I can see
The boxcar behind
Teeter.
