By: WH Angel

My passengers are lost.
They all head to the same destination.
They leave behind their lives, families,
and move on to a brighter place. 

My engines roared to life at the station,
The conductor yelled "All aboard,"
but no living person came. 

We travel down a track that no one sees.
It flows through the sky like a fish.
My smoke billows out behind us,
and dissipates before anyone sees. 

My passengers are saddened to see the city below them.
The lights pass by sluggishly.
The passengers see the homes, the families. 

They cry and wail,
there is no comfort.
They know what I am, where I must take them.
The shipper of lost souls