Metro Station

A flood of faceless strangers rushes by.

A breath of stale air whooshes through the doors.

The metro marks its stopping with a sigh.

The fare collector, prisoned behind glass,

scowls at the waves of people as they pass.

A flood of faceless strangers rushes by.

The beeping of the turnstiles never ends.

The hard slick metal bars can never bend.

The metro marks its stopping with a sigh.

Gray walls and orange floors clash as they meet,

filled with the shuffling of a million feet.

A flood of faceless strangers rushes by.

A busker haunts the halls with plaintive words,

echoing chords just yearning to be heard.

The metro marks its stopping with a sigh.

I stumble down the stairs, unheard, unseen,

one tiny wheel inside a great machine.

A flood of faceless strangers rushes by.

The metro marks its stopping with a sigh.