Dust is settled. Perhaps not still but stuck in the air. My shallow breaths fill up with dirt. There is a pale yellow light trapped under the grey ceiling. And a stale air inside the green box. The rain outside slips through the gaps, sneaking past ny collar, I feel it on my spine. There’s a weight that aches my shoulder, and a wait that aches my time.
I turn with despair as my train is left,
My stubborn reserve lets out not a sigh.
In a pale green box filled with stranger’s breath,
The yellow air hums in a grey topped sky.
Though the weather and weight might slow my journey,
My youthful grit will see through this test.
Nothing short of a hurricane will stop or turn me,
I’ll return to my parents or I’ll catch my death.
Body troubled so, my mind and soul are worn
By an overbearing mother, and father’s scorn