I can hear this train calling me from my bed <br /> I'll tell you what he said <br /> I can relieve all your idleness and pain <br /> If you paint my tracks in red <br /> I know you're fed up <br />Your cup is half empty... not filled <br />Blaming everyone for what spilled <br />Ashamed of what needs to be killed <br />Now here's your chance <br />I know your beat down, tired, and worn <br />Follow my horn, and when we meet <br />The weary flower will have no thorns<br /><br />Joseph J. Hernandez<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-end-8/
