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Man on the Train

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Ghosttrain

I once saw a man on the train,
Who seemed he was in a lot of pain.
His eyes were gone,
His throat was slit,
And yet he still carried on.

I couldn’t help but stare
And at first he didn’t care.
But that’s when I saw the pair
Of large red eyes,
Hidden within his hair.

I tried my best not to look
I directed my gaze into a book.
But suddenly he was there
As if he were made of air
He said “it’s impolite to stare.”

My eyes began to bleed
Until I could no longer read.
The sound began to fill the air
Like venom in my veins,
“It’s impolite to stare”

And the pain was far from done
I tried so hard to run
I could feel the cold hard metal
Make my neck leak
The liquid as red as rose pedals

So now I get onto trains
And forever feel his pain
I can no longer breathe fresh air,
But I don’t care,
Because it was impolite to stare.



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