The passenger station

It’s how a person reflects upon his life

The Passenger Station
Life been messy lately , me and people of world been totally different , some are rushing somewhere in a mood of getting something .
But while I stood on station , the tickets whispered to know my name ,I watched the windows flashed by my side , only me left aside .
People speaks their emotions, they been able to hear and feel , yet I been a station .A silent pillar maybe , maybe the stairs Or the lights hanging from above .
What ? Well I been stationed where goodbye laid down and hello blooms.
Each face story and slight glance of glimpse , marked the tale of each whirlpool with its vibrant dance

Well maybe I been the station for every passersby ,
The train been on track of mine , a roaring sound echos the platform where I forever abide .
Sound of loves been a burden then , the song been a curse since the train left .
The myth sleep under that and soars a miles back
I been here for all that’s touches the train , beneath the steel beams, longing the feel for sweet return and rush leave .

Yet the passenger been the love I radiates , station a little place
Maybe we can ride the train and word of tale been a myth for that ,
Still , in death of dusk and the dawn arise
Each day a story crafted and one dies .