Train Station Poem by exile evans

The sound of train whistles, far away yet persistent.

The smell of sweat and grime, pungent as always.

The taste of dry stale air, a constant.

The sight of crumbling stone tunnels, dimly lit with a flickering yellow, familiar and comforting.

The feeling of your boots on the hard tile floor underneath, a common sensation.

The realization of unease and something missing, long endured.

This place, all too well known, is starting to feel like a part of you.

A fellow traveler speaks up, 'Hey, where ya' goin', kid? '

You startle a bit, as you thought you were the only one here, hoping to find a little solace on an empty train ride as you have many times before.

Seemingly unfazed, you barely answer, 'Anywhere I can find myself.'

Unknowing, he confidently exclaims, 'You gotta' find yourself right where ya' are! '

A distant and muttered reply, 'Then I must be somewhere else.' 

For I am not entirely here.
I am lost,
In a place unknown.

But now the train is arriving,  
and you have no time to think.

You must keep searching 
For the pieces of you that you can not find
In this empty train station of your mind.

Now it's time for you to go,
And continue the search 
For what they took of you.

Those who lead your path,  
Forever left you undefined
With no identity left to hide.

Enjoy the ride.