At the door

Fleeing train, lands rush past It swings and sways, thunders and clangs. Gripping on to the hand rails I swing and sway in time. Fleeing time, life rushes past It creaks and cracks, shudders and whines. Gripping on to the thread of life I hang along till death. Death, how swift it’ll be If I let go off the rails! Flung, smacked and scattered, A mangle of flesh and bones. I am, just pieces of flesh and bones Sewn up like a ragged doll. A casual toy for a little while Of a child, to be thrown away, when bored.