One More Stop

These words that I write are like graffiti on walls passed by, Large enough to admire, But too fast to read, Wanting to be somewhere quick, Though stuck stopping to watch others drag on, There's so many people that look like they have something to say, But I'll never hear their words because I don't have time to listen, Or I'll stick my headphones in deeper because despite all the silence in me, Life has a soundtrack, And it can't be the sound of this, This milling train, This murmur of voice that fades like the blur when eyes zoom, And if I do get off I'll break for the light, Run til I have no air left to inhale, But no amount of locked turnstiles will stand in my way, I'll walk off this steel and on to what's soft, Never glancing over shoulders, Never coming back.