Trains roll past miserably,
Everyone is watching
Yet no-one is listening,
Numbed to their own voices,
Staring straight into the grey distance,
An abyss of high-rises
Invisible poison seeping through
The pores of the clockwork city,
The nameless, faceless God
Which rules all of our lives,
The paths of the young,
The routine of the adults,
The deaths of the old.

A number amongst thousands
Raising his face to the sky,
Aching, despairing
To feel some air
Wash across his face
A connection to his childhood –
Long past.

The crowd of demure coats
And pristine shined shoes,
They are statistics,
Chewed-up pieces, mangled,
Designed for a broken puzzle.
Eyes glazed over,
Drifting through consciousness,
Forlorn, passive players,
In a game long since forgotten.
Taken for granted
And dying by the second.


2 thoughts on “THE FACELESS CROWD”

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