The Bus Stop
The Bus Stop
One night in a crowded town I walk.
So eager to hop on the bus, so hesitant to talk.
I came upon a whispering voice of taunt.
The powerful wind makes the breeze.
A motionless night fills me with ease.
The discomfort of a place, the crowded town I live.
One man of thousands into the night.
A stream full of ugliness, the building towers, what a fright.
To live in a land where life is a game.
The forsaken people rest full of guilt and shame….
Stranded in this place.
Dehydration from happiness
As I crawl through the gutter,
Desperately searching for a way to escape.
The horror which stalks me in L.A.
For I walk down Sepulveda to reach my destination.
THE BUS STOP
Where people of mystery sit.
Curiosity relaxes on the bench.
Around the boundries to the eyes are thieves, thugs and a lovely wentch.
You get a feeling of insecurity sitting at a bus stop.
Sid
Copyright ©2000
Be sure to visit the authors website.. you have anything negetive to say about me, I don't care.
I choose what to see,
I choose what to believe,
Go away if you want to stomp all over my dreams.
I am not who you want me to be,
I am not who you think I should be,
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