Underbelly

Stuck beneath the overpass, a hum

of engines from above.

My eyes trace stains, where concrete's numb,

a tired, brutal love.

Dark water drips, a slow decay,

from unseen metal seams.

A faded tag, from yesterday,

or just forgotten dreams.

The paint peels back, like skin in sun,

to show the grimy rust.

No birds here, just the work begun,

then left to time and dust.

Columns rise, like tired giants, cold.

Supporting unseen weight.

Each fissure, story to be told,

of weathering and fate.

And the rumble, deep within the bone,

a constant, low vibration.

Just concrete, steel, and me alone.

A silent, stark station.