C
She sits on the train looking out at the rain
Another crap day full of pain
The appointment is booked and she’s running late
She wants to throw up and make it all go away
She knows the route like the back of her hand
Each graffitied brick, grey and bland
An important item with the facing issues
She checks her bag for the small pack of tissues
It seems so unfair making this trip all alone
She would love a friend or chaperone
The greeting as ever is warm and well meant
But she’s going to hell which is heaven sent
They link her up to the dreadful machine
And the process soon starts which will make her clean
Never once has she uttered why me with intent
It’s written in the stars she knows that it’s meant
Mercifully held in the hands of time
She waits for her fate from the great divine
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