Who Walks On This Train Poem by Aerin Andre

Who Walks On This Train



Who walks on this train?
The Person and the problems clearly evident.
The older intelligent who seems to not know how to clearly save a life.
Everyone expects the solutions from him yet the drama can not receive much reactions from any other alliances.
Certainly you don’t know what to do
Then there she sits the gorgeous girl, who cant find anything else then whatever peon decides to track her movements of a fort nights past.
Of course the only evidence noticed is the material look she obviously possesses.
All that’s possible is to throw a smile so evidently and whisper the only two words that can be mustered.
Yet scrutinize, which can be predicted.
Who walks on this train?
While the gorgeous girl strides off this trail way another skulks in.
Haste is always missed sinks into seclusion.
Pardon the dilemmas that operate within this iron speed way.
Occurrence after occurrence without words spoken.
Why is the most difficult decision more often the not the correct one.
Why cant the easiest choice keep the problems afloat around the sickle few.
Look to the worn tattered seats and there sits a rugged iridescent gentleman who cant understand why he can not miss what has always followed his so compulsively.
The not quite adult but surely not youth sits in the corner with dawdling eyes and an ink base in his hand with each blot an inspiration lays across the page.
Its never abundant enough to just stay in ones corner.
Never quite fulfilling enough to view the complicated itinerary.
Yet here I slouch with a blank slate and a mind full of random compliments and story lines that extract each others personal favoritism.
For who walks on this train?
I admire these individuals because I view that fragment that they have in resemblance.
Lay my shadow for I view them and they can not critique me.
Here on this train sit me myself and I.

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