Yellow

Trains in Europe

I wrote a poem but I scrapped it last night;
It was happy and care-free, it just didn't feel right.
I was crying as I wrote it;
Feeling nothing but hopeless.
Crumbled up pieces of paper;
The fear of a fading dreamer.
As the sirens sound and my thoughts thump;
I can't be around me, I'm on a train in Europe.

Evergreen trees compliment nature's vision;
I'm writing new words in new countries.
I haven't made a healthy, a right decision;
I'm at the bend before the break, to put it bluntly.
Down in the dumps; reduced to tears;
Free falling into my greatest fears.
What am I doing? Who have I become?
I don't know, on these trains in Europe.

A passport with stamps from countries you've never heard of,
Romantic walks in the hopes of shutting these thoughts down.
Take me to the infamous landmarks where history envelops itself in their every side;
Just please don't let me die alone inside.
I'm spiralling, free-falling, like I hoped the plane that brought me here would;
I am a lover of the bad and a hater of the good.
Hold your breath in the hopes I'll come home;
But how can I feel home in a place where I feel so alone?

So, I'm on this train in Europe;
Escaping the demons of my past.
Escapism is my pathetic idea of some form of cope;
I don't know how long this freedom will last.
I'll go broke before I ever return;
I'd throw myself into flames; I'd burn.
Because when I'm not on this train I am in pain;
Like knives collapsing through your eyes in the rain.
But don't worry about me;
I'm trying to be happy.
So, don't worry about me;
I'm almost happy.