Rise at six, ready by seven, time for commuter heaven.
Crowded streets full of people, packed so tight it's like walking
Pushing and shoving, scowls on faces, individuals picking up paces.
I reach the train in a frantic race looking for a seat or just some
Aromas of perfume, sweat and worry, cigarettes, spirits and last
Seeing the regrets in their eyes, thinking of the mortgage and
wasted lives, direct debits and the repayments on the car, when
they'd rather be exploring lands afar.
Catching my reflection in the smoky glass, the sudden realization
comes at last.
I've let my dreams fade and wane, I'm just like them, I'm just the
by Michael Readdin
Read the story behind this poem
Vote For My Site!