Station Mole

So long ago, I’m not so sure if it was real or a dream.

At Station Mole, it’s easy to burrow the internal scream.

Subterranean nightmares, I wonder how much it affects me.

I was so young and agreeable, I didn’t resist.

It wasn’t too painful, nor did it persist.

I knew it was wrong, but for some reason,

I thought I was helping Them.

A self-sacrificing soul,

I wanted no one to condemn.

That is particularly true to this day.

For as I continue to grow, well They…

Live the saddest life I know.

It’s been a while since I left Station Mole,

That is if I was ever there to begin with.

Today I return as a more intuitive soul.

Wondering with much more bandwidth.

Is this dream a collective burden,

Simply manifesting itself to me?

How many others similarly suffered at this abusive station?

One in which they send us out in isolation.

Unaware in darkness that we aren’t alone,

Feeling like pests, as if it’s us who need to atone.

As I continue to dig, it illuminates the sight.

I double down on my refusal to spite.

For I was chosen to heal the pervasive blight.

They continue to decay all alone.

Though I fear what might happen if Their tracks are known.

Perhaps, their path brings on bemoan.

A greater understanding of the traumatic cyclone.

So we can finally put an end to Station Mole.