mothers grow up, because children leave.
lovers cry, because forever isn't.
some are waiting, and some've given up.
some indifferent, and some who still try.
vacation lights up a pair of eyes,
a vacant look in another, headed for the unknown.
the stench - it's not the filth.
it's the mishmash of emotions that is unloaded here.
emotions that haven't been worded.
imagine all those consciences, those inner voices
screaming within, begging to be let out.
the lump in the throat thickens
as the train fades into the distance
leaving only the regret that the right things weren't said.
that tomorrow may never come.
to say them.
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