The first 5 lines are good. Could end it right there.

Love it! Especially the use of sequential numbers as an introduction.
Concise, abrupt and blount, but I still have that clear image of a tired commuter waiting for a train. What is the commute good for if not to let us dwell on our own depression?
Only small critique is that "But in of itself" is a little confusing. Still though, great.

I liked the not sorry part, I liked the whole thing, but the end changed it to being just a "my life is so horrible" poem into something else, it could be the horrible life poem with a twist if you view the person in this poem as so out of their mind that their sorry doesn't matter, because they can't apologize for something they have no control over.

So it's some kind of last grasp at control, a failed one.

I like the first four lines, but after that it's like the meter/syllables/what-ever-poetry-nuts-call-it completely changes... I mean, the meaning works, really well, but that sudden drop between moment and erode just doesn't sit right as I read it.

=> Jess