Tracks

Running along them calmly you may hear the roar of the freight behind you

then again that could be the endgame

to allow everything to all end

and make it all seem like a mistake.

Then again these could be the sight of pure victory

of a long road towards freedom

of a long road towards rebuilding

the railroad away from slavery

but when you look at your wrists are you still bound?

when you look at your feet are there still shackles?

Can you break the chains that have anchored you down your entire life?

Can you break free of the weight of it, the pain and the strife

Unfortunately for me, I carry around the weighted duffel

this innately large possession of my own that holds all my troubles

so many mistakes made, so many moments with only one place to turn

while done for my own protection, losing that gift has made me undone

let me make this clear, this is all about self right now

this revolving issue has nothing to do with anyone on the outside of my brain

in the end there is not enough support for this frame

weighted down, heavy, tired, and when it gets close to the struggle

all alone with no home

a nomad who does not even belong where he lays his head

a man who speaks yet is never heard

someone would call a leader yet no one is ever lead

all in all this is a joke of an existence

I dare you to give proof to deny

that horn is getting closer, louder

time to catch my ride

goodbye

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