Dieing on the inside

Carriages trail and move along the iron track
And freights of people grind the mundane day and back
Yet I sit among them and follow their routine
I sit beside them, one among a crowd unseen
And began to ponder the meaning of it all
To what purpose are they doing this for?
The work they labor seems such a heavy price
To earn a perishable sum yet forfeit a purpose driven life
Day by day they fight the boring fight
And live out their lives while dieing on the inside...