Looking around as if I’m the unseen.
Running alert from the watchers,
Men and women desperate for a quick buck
Echo their cries, announcing the diversity of their wares.
Empty little things, warding one’s entrance
And yet, allowing them to stay in the race.
The race of survival,
The race of independence,
The way of living.
People have yet to lay their sights away from their screens, to recognize such efforts. For yet, the sight their screens offer are of kilometers afar, leaving nothing but husks with a heartbeat inside a train.