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This diary entry is written by ‹Monkey boy›. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: Whispering words in category Poems

PlatformCategory: Poems
Friday, 18 June 2010
09:01:27 AM (GMT)
People rushing around and sounds of trains moving,
Conductors yelling out and people are moving.
With ticket in hand, I stood at the platform scanning
for the signs. Whistle blowing and people rushing
by  me. I handed my ticket to a conductor, his boney
hand took this white paper. His face hidden in the 
shadows but a smile was seen. This black train screamed
with cry's as I stepped on and saw a little girl cry 
as she walked by. As the train departed I saw the sign
from my window. 'The departed soul express'

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