Last Stop to Insanity

Last Stop to Insanity

I reached the station long ago,

ticket folded in a shaking hand,

watching old versions of myself

leave on trains I did not understand.

Every warning looked like kindness,

every silence felt like truth,

I traded sleep for crowded thoughts

and lost the sound of my own youth.

The signs became impossible,

each arrow bent and changed its name,

faces blurred into reflections,

every day arrived the same.

I carried rooms inside my head,

locked doors with rusted keys,

heard my shadow speak too loudly,

felt storms arrive with every breeze.

There was a platform marked almost,

another marked one more try,

I stood between them for so long

I forgot the reason why.

Then came the final carriage,

no whistle, no warning light,

only a seat beside the window

and a road without a night.

I did not board from madness,

I boarded from being tired,

from holding worlds together

until every wire expired.

Now the tracks disappear behind me,

quiet where the noise had been,

and somewhere in the distance

I remember who I’d been.

#Marie381UkWriter