Engine severs lower legs.
I feel my bruised heart beating.
Spinal cord remains intact, still sending and receiving.

Lying back on shoulder blades, the cargo rushing past.
Missing limbs beneath the cars, twitching on the tracks.
Click Clack now handicapped.
North Am Transcontinental.

I remember, as I bleed, certain tails of bravery.
A man whose legs were crushed beneath a fallen evergreen tree.
He decided he would chop them off above the knee.
Sacrificing shins and feet, to make his torso free.

The luxury of having been spared the hard part
you'd think would be enough for me to pull this off.
But I'm left to bleed to death, now all the man I've ever been.

North Am Transcontinental.