Alone with my thoughts and with a borrowed pen
I sit in the carriage of a Liverpool train
It now canters along, past the wood and the flashes
In a clearing I see of bonfires the ashes
Then it gathers speed, being Liverpool-bound
Out of Wigan a train and my heart, rattled, pound
and my thoughts in my head swirling round and around
All the fear, the shame, the mistrust of the future
The regrets of the past, that invisible vulture
All the fear, the shame, the foresaken illusions
The expectations not met and the wrong contributions
With the pen I have borrowed I scribble some lines:
Will they help me in my journey and arrest my decline?
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