Victoria
Endured, not loved
Trembling to the platform,
A rattled vein, metallic, clouded.
Flush with shoppers,
She exhales furnace heat,
Every face a grimace, they enter -
'Might I take you to the ends?'.
Each journey,
A tax on human will,
Her only redemption her speed,
For alighting at your destination,
No sweeter feeling,
No greater reward.
I hate you, Victoria,
warts and all.