In a hurry

I look suicidal,

Standing beside a train track this gloomy morning,

Small rain showers my body

An abomination to my clear view.

This woman, this lady,

Peeks at me, wondering;

Why is this smartly dressed guy this early to the station?

I look back at her, hard and stern.

Get your eyes off me!, my heart says

“It’s none of your business”,

Then, my gaze goes back to the train tracks,

Perhaps, suicide is a good thought,

To jump and be pulped by the massive rumbling iron car.

I take out my headphones and listen to music,

“Perhaps it’ll better with music”,

But why?