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people are crowd poem

People Are Crowd

Walking in, Walking out Of their wretched lives, People are crowd Who don’t stand out; They hum the same song, And shoehorn all along, Till they feel safe amongst each other, And don’t bother About anyone’s radar, Not even for a man, Who sits quietly

strangers on the bus

Strangers on the Bus

It was the same routine. Like a daily monotonous job. That part of life we have no control over. And we are forced to sit through it brooding through what our life has become and what would it become. But that unpleasant stream of thoughts

image of a road for the road poem

The Road

I am walking. I think I am; The road walks the other way. A tiny kiosk sells death in all sizes While people flock in huge numbers to die; They ask for their favourite cigarette flavours. A girl preens her hair trying to find What