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Train Journey

Train Journey
Maisy Mansell-Warren

What am I even doing here?
The ringing sound of wheels on rails,
The never-ending sea of legs,
The rushing scenery outside the
dirty window,
The dizzying smell of strong coffee…
What is the point?
There are buses, after all.
Why is it all so…
…close up?

The iPads and laptops
silently screaming dramatic movies in my face,
The migraine-causing stench of the engines,
The dull, nauseating grey seats
glaring at me.
Why does it always have to be
feeling sick?
The laughter, the chatter, the coughs and the sneezes,
And me praying the dizziness
won’t make me see
my lunch again
My knuckles turning white
as I clench the edge of the slightly worn seat.

The woman’s electronic voice
announcing the next stop.
The scrabble of passengers reaching for
belongings and
desperately pushing their way through
the aisle,
knocking everyone’s elbows.

The sudden lurch of the stopping train,
Mum grabbing my arm; pulling me up,
guiding me through the claustrophobic crowd
of people taller than me.
Stepping out and…
Fresh air makes its way into my nostrils.
Thank goodness that’s over.
It won’t be happening again any time soon!


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