No station for them to choose from,
No platform to alight or change any tracks;
As such in parallel always reach,
Where journey ends, axes annexed in packs.
The high rises cemented all,
Broken roads too lives in forlorn;
Fought thousand years they, in abyss,
Another thousand, if, re-born.
No station for them to choose from,
As built all on the quick sand,
Or stayed on either; yet, mere bland.
A time always when less & less remain,
No station would be to choose from,
Searching till stood none, with no name. :(
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2022