My Train/Pain

I'll sit on this train waiting for my stop

It always stops.

This train is so loud, 

People's voices fill my head but those voices are my own.

I am on this train alone

I wonder how long for. 

The last train was a few months 

The train before a year 

But this train, it has to be the right one. 

I assure myself that's true, that I'm sitting on this train with the final destination, happiness.

Yet I've been on and off this train more times than I'd like to remember. I get back on, this is the right train. 

Yet this train fills my lungs with steam, hot, choking steam. 

It wants to choke me. 

The steam grips tightly onto my lungs like a vice closing in. 

I am the vice. 

The train will stop.

Why would it not when I keep derailing it?

I'll be asked for a ticket I do not possess

So they can stamp a hole that I already own

I look out the window, my eyes met with beauty

Then I turn to the gum stained seat in front of me. 

The walls covered in graffiti 

"You're not enough" 

I am the walls 

The train is filling up, 

I give up my seat so I can stand in-between the insecurity and fear

I feel both moving closer

Compressed, cramped, so close they become part of me. 

Every stop I wait for one to leave. 

No one does

I think they're all going to the same destination. 

But they're crushing me

I think this is my stop.