Homunculus

In my mind there is a train
That all the rails and rivets bend
With driver stood astride the deck
No fear, she, of blame nor wreck
But boils the furnace of the race
With ‘Wretch!’ and ‘Wry!’ etched on her face
With wretch and wry creased deep upon
The passengers cling on and on.
And in her brain, another train
With wheels that churn and spin
Into the sand embedding deeper
Elbow-pistons rusting in
Its driver paralysed with shame
And carriages bewildering...
While under heaven's shining sun
The passengers cling on and on.