Survivor
The braking screams,
18 in count.
Spinning round and round as lights go by.
I brace for impact from tangible ghosts
Time passes on—
No crunch,
No burn,
No entrapment.
I sense invisible stares.
From each surrounding seat, as they stand empty.
Survivor, they called it.
I remember each seat was overflowing with life,
now just the memories.