Training the Heart
This train is not the one I need,
Though it's warm and inviting,
It doesn't fit me.
The service I want is indefinitely delayed,
Though I'm ready and waiting, and I've already paid.
I stand with my bags, looking down at the track,
For I've chosen my train and I cannot go back.
Although there'd be others; betters, perhaps,
The promise of maybe keeps me platformed and trapped.
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