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An Indigo Child Travels to Work

Poetry By: Mathew Nicolson

Based on the experiences of a friend.

Submitted:Sep 26, 2012    Reads: 6    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   

My hand falls upon the railing

as the train hurtles

at the speed of light,

or close enough.


Why should I,

an indigo child,

a dweller of the deep,

an opened mind,

commune with the mundane?

They laugh and joke with no idea

the pleasure they drain.

Corrupt souls bask in ignorance

under a sinful sun.

Me eyes close,

braced for a long journey.


They dart like crazed chimpanzees,

this way, and that way.

They leap the gap,

landing firm,

falling bags all over.

One stays back,

doors closing,

despair written on his face

like a weathered statue.

And I freeze,

sensing danger.

But fate is kind to those who Know.

The bird is free from the net

and takes off,


away from me.

Truly blessed am I

by the angels.


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