I'm a Train

"I think I can, I think I can," the little train cried out,

His engine running hotter while he strains against his doubt.

"I think I can, I think I can," the little train would shout.

But sockets slip and trains will trip with boilers burning out.

"I thought I could, I thought…," the wreckage crumpled to the bottom.

His parts now rusted, beaten, busted from that spring till autumn.

"I wish I could, I wish…" the broken spirit now despairing,

His face a rush of mud and slush, his fire beyond repairing.

"You know, this giant mess is all my fault," the train would say.

"Why try at all? I've not a chance to get there anyway.

It's better just to settle in the mud where no one sees me.

I'll stay, I'll cry, I'll live, I'll die, I'll rot here where it's easy."

Thus, with eyes now pale, the little train was rent asunder

Nevermore to shine with pride or gaze with eager wonder.

Till the end, the little train was far too cold to shiver,

He sat afraid, unsure he stayed, and broken by the river.