(Meadowell is a shitty metro station that I have to wait at each morning as I go to work, it inspired this insipid effort.)
Smoking woman by the metro rails,
Can you even think or feel?
Or are you drowning out some pain,
That scarred your soul,
But left no shame?
Your child looks on with curious eyes,
As you scream obscenties to the slate grey skies,
The platform drips with fallen spit,
No seats remain,
On which to sit.
At night the shrieks and whoops,
Of mispent youth will echo,
Down the puke strewn tunnel,
And yellow railings will hide,
Those old familiar lies.
I watched detached,
Sad at my own contempt,
This weary Heaven and stranger Hell
On this dreary day,
Like a Nun on the Run, I'm terrible fun.