On the Train

Riding the trains here during rush hours, especially in the morning, is a comedic hell of sorts. Written four or five years back, this poem reflected my daily struggle and musings during those days when i jostled my way to work almost every single work day.


On the Train


The minute I got on the train,
No one was there who was not sane.
Of men and women, strangers all,
Whose faces bore no trace of pain.

Not a hint of joy or sadness.
A glint of fear or loneliness.
Yet underneath their worries hide.
Each one on the brink of madness.

Life has its ways for every man,
And we strive as best as we can
To get a glimpse of the sunrise,
While some waited, the others ran.

And there we were headed somewhere.
As to where not one seemed to care.
Of one thing we were all aware,
Hope awaits us when we get there.

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