Ol' Number 13
By JEG325
half a mile from Hell’s gate
lies rusted old train tracks
those who take the journey
never seem to come back…
if you see number thirteen
rolling with ghostly silence
lock all your doors quickly
before living becomes past
tense
thru darkened forest trees
to its mysterious final stop
your last ticket is punched
time derailed off the clock
oh God I see bright lights
and its orange misty haze
there’s no place to run to
as on 1 and 3
fearful eyes
gaze
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