Sounds familiar?

There I stood on Platform 1. Awaiting the train. The train of life. I'd bought the boarding ticket - a week early to avoid the rush - and now is the time. Quarter to 2. 2am that is. Managed to squeeze some sleep in the evening, or else I'll be dead now. I hastily finished off my food and banana and threw the remains on the floor. Not like it mattered over here in this city.

People were beginning to pour in. Like ants when their nest is destroyed. Mostly by us humans. Noise levels elevate and I have a hard time hearing the music from my Ipod. Heaving my bag over my right shoulder I shuffled to a nearby bench and collapsed onto it. Black market ticket sellers began to take over the place with their yelling, attempting to make quick money with counterfeits. I've always been puzzled over how the train conductor let the fake tickets through later during ticket stamping and collection, but that doubt was all but dispelled when I saw, with my own two eyes, the train conductor receiving a lump of money from the sellers.

Suddenly, beyond the bend of the track on the horizon, came a long piercing whistle. I squinted into the distance and saw a puff of smoke - the train is arriving. Right on time. I picked up my bag and made my way through the human sea in vain to get to the front of the queue. Within seconds the train screeched to a halt at the station. Ignoring the announcement for us to stand clear of the door, more people started to join the queue and a mini shoving contest ensued. Desperately I tried to push my way around those jokers to get to the train. The doors were already opening but no one seemed to be getting out of the train. The conductor was already bellowing out that the doors were closing in a few seconds - I must get in this time! It was then I saw a gap in the sea, and I rushed through it; I was going to make it after all. Then I tripped. People hurried past me without offering a hand. That's the way it is around here. Guess I would have done the same.

By the time I looked up the doors were closing and the horn was blown. I tried to pick myself up as fast as I can but I know the train doesn't wait for anyone, and before I knew it, it was gone, gone away from this forsaken land, gone to a place where the pastures were a sea of red, yellow and green, and where people can actually see the sun shining. I crumpled onto the ground in a heap of frustration and anger, annoyed by my incompetence. I wonder when the next train will come. Perhaps soon. Perhaps never. One never knows. Just have to prepared. I'll be ready the next time it comes by. And I'll be on that train, that train of life again.