The Man at The Bus Stop

How lonely it must be to sit there
At a bus stop all on your own
When everyone pretends that you aren’t there
They face away or go on their phones
It’s not that they don’t see you
It’s that they simply don’t want to
Because you remind them of them of their deepest fears
Like being dismissed or dying alone

How painful it must be to sit there
And slice open your sore throat
There is no gun to your head
And by now you must be cold
The blood that pours all down your body
Does it keep you warm
Or are you so far gone that you can’t feel it anymore

How sad you must be to do this
To put yourself out on display
And yet your sight meets no one’s eyes
Because they all turned away
2 suitcases at your feet
How your life has gone astray
Desperate for someone to see you
I feel a similar way.