And this is where you are.

This is where you stand.

Life is of essence, though you may not see it.

You get lost

Behind a dark cloud that shadows that beautiful starry night.

You get lost

Trapped and locked in the train of thoughts that chain together, riding over the creeping train tracks slowly making you cringe.

What you can't see are those stars you dream to gaze too.

You imagine what it's like to see those stars, you wish to follow them and take one to keep in your pocket.

And this is where you are.

This is where you are seated.

In a cold room full of no aire.

Gasping for freshness

Gasping for realisation

An epiphany

But there you are, lying your head against the cold, icy window.

There you are waiting for the ticket man to come by.

There he is shivering in your cabinet. There he is looking at you in confusion.

-Ma'am, it's quite chilly in here. Would you care for a warm blanket in the spare? Or shall I turn on the thermostat for you?

He sounds like a West Briton...mmm.

I nod, looking down.

-No thank you, sir.

He nods acceptingly,

-very well then. Here is your ticket ma'am. And if you need anything, I am four cabinet doors to your left.

He smiles softly, handing me my ticket and closing my door. I look at the ticket sitting on my cold hand.

I lose focus, watching my breath give me goosebumps as I breathed on my arm...

I feel it. I feel my cold air.

Poetry Slam: 


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