Strolling along the tracks,
Where locomotives run its course,
My mind going through my lady’s little knick knacks,
As my eyes stuck, to a scene my heart didn’t endorse.
A snail it was, making its way towards home,
Dragging its weight through the iron rails,
Leaving trails, which look like foam.
And a sudden vibration, we both felt,
As if letting us know, the danger ahead,
I look towards those tracks as far it went,
And saw a rushing light through a machine head.
Before I could take an action,
That would make this, a merrier read,
The train swopped past me by a fraction,
And left that snail there, to bleed.
I stood there,
Watching as the foam disappear,
Thinking, about the inevitable that these creatures share,
A life full of uncertainty, that they all fear.
And perhaps, there is no one to blame,
Disasters do follow with every creation,
But still, the question remains the same,
In the world of giant civilisation,
Who is looking out for the little one?
Who takes care that they reach where they want to go?
Who makes sure that they don’t have to run?
And make the world a better place, for them to show.
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