These Tired Tracks

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.

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