My name is Filkardiershcar,
don’t bother with the pronounciation.
This is never about my name. Will never.
I’m born in shell, congested barrier to the world.
With too many rules, to many rulers.
Pondering what endings I could achieve, well enough, if I’m not there yet?
But days died like leaves. As I watch trains came and went.
While my lungs kept welcoming black smoke from the chimney.
No matter, it’s never darker than the road. Will never.
I woke up, I strolled to the station, I waited, but I never got on the train.
What if I took the red one? Where will it lead?
Or the blue one? Or that feverish yellow one?
How should I know? If I don’t get on any of it.
So one more day,
one more train,
one more pinch of black breath,
know my ending?
Or this is it?
The end is actually… I’m not knowing.