Weary and worn from travelling on my own;
Yearning to feel as though I finally belong
Somewhere, or to someone, to be healed, to be free,
Wishing I were on the way to where I’m meant to be;
But I feel like I’ve been trapped and taken against my will
I’m longing for this train of thought to finally stand still,
And this inexorable journey seems endless –
The pitiless wheels keep rolling, relentless,
Carrying the ghosts of a thousand sleepless nights
Rhythmically toward the Desperation City lights.
The doleful horn cries in the dark, a harbinger of doom
Moaning in the starless shadows of misery and gloom.
©2017 Joanne Van Leerdam