Originally penned on 5th February 2016
The train chugs along,
Like a freshman after his first game of beer pong,
It sings a monotonous song,
Sometimes braking, others shaking; but never really coming to a halt.
The real iron snake has become the thoughts you would once forsake,
For in the absence of a speech to make,
Your reach into the mind is that of one awake,
The kind that over, takes,
The stuff of musings unsaid that are created over single takes,
You’re either in or out: locked in or thought out.
Yours in perpetuity,
Evans Mbora Campbell