On The Bus

The man is sitting crying on the bus
His baggage there beside so neatly packed
So silently and almost without fuss
A slide of tears upon the cheek is tracked
Is he oblivious to those about
Who look and look away and look again
I wish for him to scream or maybe shout
His quiet is acceptance of the pain
And every single person on the bus
Can tell the story when they shed a tear
The human claiming never to have cried
Is someone who has very much to fear
The man his tears dry the moment gone
The bags are always packed he moves along


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