As I look along the track I remember this is a game of life and death. I walk along this track in my deep depression looking for lost friends. They are lost throw time and accidents. Today I will find them. The air rushes past me, cooling as it goes. When will the train come. The tracks, never ending in front of me. One foot, two foot, one foot, over and over on the iron. When will the train come. I know he is close. Death is waiting for me, waiting for the train. When will it come. I walk and then fall in theas high- heals. The fall that takes forever, as I hit the floor I feel the pain. I get back up and still go on. When will the train come. As I walk I wait for the hours on the horizon. There is no end to theas tracks, but no train. The sun goes down, the game is at an end but I am not.
Maybe tomorrow, the train will come.
Or just maybe death does not want me.