I sit, weary
Silence eerie, air tinged with diesel
Watching the miles of blue flame
Lick the frost from the rails;
As the chill eats through my clothes, my flesh
Chilling the very marrow of my bones
I curse my miserable lot
And pray that winter’s icy blade
Fails to find my shiv’ring heart.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: September 8th, 2025 21:03
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
Offline)
Comments1
A metaphor that chills the bones. It to me speaks of alienation. Nicely done with great imagery
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