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Gray Stations
The station is where one feels the loneliest
People compact together in the large metal box
Their eyes reek of misery and dance along the light
Glued to their screens, not moving a muscle
The gaze is fixated on the blips of color,
Living for something real yet vicarious
The wheels rattle along the staid tracks, but
Perhaps there is more to life than just waiting
Trudging on, seeking distractions,
As the present blends into the past
When do I get to the good part?
To fully embrace life for what it means
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This poem is about finding optimism within the mundane events in life.