Black Train Station
You will find it
On an unremarkable urban street
But no signs will point you
Well-worn tracks
That lead to it
These are not made of steel
No people with teary farewells
Or Cheery welcomes
Hugs and handshakes
Lost to antiquity
Unattended gardens
Surround it
An old squeaky gate
Guards it
Bland as bile
Its wall
Memories of institutions
That room
Waiting room
Filled with the palliative
Dying
Helpless
Unloved
Unmoved
Left waiting in
Absolute
At
Black train station
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