waiting for the train.

behind me are people

some are innocent

some are filthy

some do not know which path to take.

i try to observe them

try to read their thoughts

by the sadness of their eyes

blank stares on the mirrors

conversations with the nonchalant air

trying to figure out what’s the point

in life.

maybe that’s what my eyes are telling me.

because maybe some of them are trying discreetly

to read my eyes too

and figured out i’m also

just a part of the crowd


that seems to be an everyday routine

to escape.


2 thoughts on “waiting

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