Waiting at the Station
Ready to go.
Regardless of what I say
And regardless of what I do
My mind remains inside a fugue
That came out of the blue.
Like a harbinger of death
A vulture with outstretched wings
The darkness descended into my soul
Stretching my heartstrings.
I didn’t see it coming.
Though its presence thickened the air
And now it has me tightly wrapped
And I’m held within my lair.
Locked within my world
Of desolation and depression
I don’t want to go outside
The progression of my regression.
Safety is behind closed shutters
Or the darkness of the night
I don’t want to talk to people
Or watch the hard sunlight.
I need undying patience.
To wait till the shadow lifts.
I can never hurry it.
Life determines where it drifts.
I wish one day I’d wake.
To the brightness of a new day
But I can’t change the way I feel
Despite what people say.
So, I’m waiting at the station.
My bags are packed, ready to go
But when my train is leaving
It’s not for me to know.
©
David Rudder
2013
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