Exit

Woken by the warmth, of an angel before him, someone he could love, but all she feels is pity, The sun overhead , dims his expectations, instead of ushering in a new dawn, it leaves him cold and alone, in droves they pass him, women, children, men in suits, survivors, all chasing their own private rainbows, leaving him to clutch at straws, so with his second hand suitcase, he boards the last train to nowhere, finds a corner seat, away from the windows, he doesn't want to see, the end of the line approaching.