Today was one of those lovely days that only come ever so often but are so wonderful as you spend the whole day laughing and smiling with your best friends. I wouldn’t change them for the world.

I got the train home and it felt quite surreal as I remember that quite recently someone in my area committed suicide on the rail tracks. Whilst sat on the train I wondered what was going through their mind at the time and doddled (my new word, I’m owning it) down this poem.

The Level Crossing

I used to love counting trains

From the bench by the level crossing,

Treasured childhood memories,

Of blissful days spent trainspotting

Yet now I’m standing at the crossing,

And mother I’m sorry, this is no prank

I ask my mind to grasp happy thoughts

But it’s only drawing blanks

I hear the distant noise

Of a train drawing near

I appreciate the beauty of train tracks

I know it’s course can not veer

I hear voices shouting

People acknowledge what they’re about to see,

It’s somehow oddly settling

That the screams will no longer come from me

I close my eyes and breathe,

It’ll be over before I know

I panic and wonder if I’ll have regrets

Before that final blow

After that I wonder,

When my family are talking with the police,

After that pain and panic,

Will I finally be at peace?

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