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that littered railway edged ahead
formulated over extended ages
it is a burden, a habit which
endeavored to make me dead, and yet 
I rationalize my plan
I am a foolish and precarious man
on go I
like the moaning tracks pass through the night
braced ahead upon the sight, and in response
the whistle and screech echo a foreshadowing
the inevitable and hapless plight, my choice
my motive to take this path, a forbearance
of every neglect, each reflection
gaging my inner anxious wrath, gouged
against all the steps to bring me here
yet I will not cower with fear, set in sand
unlike my fate which I ignore
as my new roads engage me still, I change
I can change this
as I extend for a stronger will
and not the tracks whereupon I implore
denying all the rationale
no longer diverted, but sidetracked
departing onto a wooded trail
because it is time for this spirit's reprieve
in due time, despite my folly, 
tissues of my self ceaselessly deceived
while I contemplate, reflect, and confidently portend
in one way or another it shall come to an end