Poem – Talk

I walk directed through the streets

A voice guiding me where to go

People my gaze they do not meet

Their faces fearful and alone

 

In every silent corridor

In every gaze cast to the ground

The dour shame the want for more

For what they search remains unfound

 

In each quiet fearful crowd

A misanthrope could find a brother

The buzz of headphones can seem loud

Muted youth in colors smothered

 

I catch a gasp of hopeful air

When with a steely pair of eyes I lock

That at least one other stranger dare

To defy the norms and talk

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