I can't go back to last night's thought,
To that reverie, that secret place.
My mind doth dwell on suicidal thoughts.
Surely I am not a maniac,
But merely a lost soul among others.
My sick body frail and weak,
Debilitated by the world,
In all it's splendor.
By the people, their words.
The mere mention of his name makes me cringe.
Yet the strong hold he has over me is intoxicating.
Who is he?
Where dost thou lie?
Who needs him, not I.
I am strong through my weakness,
Wise through my stupidity,
Proud through my humility,
I am brave, I will endure,
Through many more days.
Be it alone or with company.
I AM, "the little train that could."
