Capitalism


The train howls in the dead of the night, a lonely sound
Stirring up images of an emerging economy
As it rolls through the now darkened city.
Men, looking for a better life,
Spent theirs laying down the tracks,
Building roads paved in gold
Connecting the country from corner to corner.
Those tracks now lay dormant
Highways became the new means for transportation.
Once emblematic of a capitalist nation,
The train tracks sit as idle bystanders to shuttered houses,
Potholed streets; litter tarnishes the golden lines into dull rust.
Yet still I hear the train's melancholy cry
A raw sound, it mourns the days long past.

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