different noises, different sound. the cranking of metal, the twitching of bars. road seemed to be a bit rough. it felt as if we are the wheels of the train itself, resisting, going with the route where he meets the rail. woke up just to be tired again, again, we are tired. slept nicely but still exhausted. swaying within the train seems familiar. familiarity of the thought that life doesn't always run smoothly. maybe a bit too rough. we, the runners, immuned to the cracks and turns of the railway. these belonged in our system. idk about you, but we are trains. running, sliding through the very same route. from afar it looks awfully alright. but from the very train itself it's destroyed. mere running for survival. same route, different path. sometimes a bit excited. excited about what? the future? running forward? to what? to whom? to death? A bit scary it seems. But we are trains. Running the same route for generations. It killed our generation