Intentional Misplacement

The clock flickers midnight, a gentle taunt,

I sip my regret like it’s something to flaunt.

Metallic chairs clash, a symphony of rust,

shadows stretch and curl, in this half-lit gust.

Each clang a reminder of choices undone,

I lean on the platform, the weight of the fun.

Pretending my absence is choice, not despair,

while workers stack silence, as if unaware.

A train whistle wails, it pierces the night,

I smile at the emptiness, feigning delight.

The city drips echoes, the air thick with lies,

I wrap myself tightly in false alibis.