Young Writers Society

I am me.

I am a train.

I am a steam locomotive.

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I am a steam locomotive, fighting and pounding down the tracks.

A raging fire within.

A fire fueled by coal which is knowledge.

The fire roars boiling the water

The water which is the emotions I hold within

The emotions of: understanding, caring, and sympathy

The coal and water combined fuel,

The beast which is the locomotive.

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Slow to start,

But once moving it is hard to stop.

Fighting through everything that is thrown at it:

The bad weather of pain caused by those I hold dearest,

The train cars behind that grow more and more as life gets harder, and

The long journey to get where I am trying to arrive at,

This all causes the fire to rage on more;

Rage stronger and hotter, to move the train faster and further.

To never stop, the fire fights.

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The fire roars within the firebox almost endlessly.

It however will stop.

It will stop when the boiler runs out of water.

Once the water levels run too low, the locomotive will explode.

Once my water has been taken and poured, I am left hurt and ignored.

Once the water is gone the boiler explodes.

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It is over.

The water is gone.

The boiler explodes.

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The fire is gone.

It is out.

There is no fight left.

The locomotive is spread across the landscape.

It will never be a locomotive again,

It is just scraps of what once was a locomotive.

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It will never fight again.

The fire will never rage again.

It is gone.

The fight is over.

It will hopefully move on to another life,

One with less pain.

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My fight is over.

The fire is gone.

The time has come to move on.

This steam locomotive that is me, is gone.

It will never have another raging fire within.

Time to go,

Go to a place with less pain.

My fight is over.

The fire is forever gone. 

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