The Train by Ivan Guerrero Najera

The Train

The train passes by
With speed and such violence
It's tense, and the tracks
Reverberate

We came here to die
Don't need much pretense
I sense what I lack
Compensate

The rain asks me why
Branches heed in suspense
Raindrops a lens, an attack
Precipitate

I can gain from a lie
Grass is weed, eloquence
Spring, hence rain coming back
Resuscitate

The pain in comfort, deny
Dreams the speed of conscience
Make amends, failures stack
Reciprocate

The train passes by
Do I bleed or commence
Life attends death to snack
Inoculate


by Ivan Guerrero Najera

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