Long Days

The train is full to the brim,

A seething mass of humanity, no one seeing further than the end of their nose

The look on his face next to me is grim,

You wouldn't believe it, as expectations getting to his seat rose,

He pushes harder now,

Oblivious of my real need of respite and repose,

All he sees is his need,

To hell with others who struggle silently around him in the throng,

Of people in the mass,

It's a prize he will possess, will acquire, right or wrong,

And there he sits, the winner,

Smug smile of contentment in his ability to achieve his small but vital goal,

But to all around a sinner,

A cheat who cared nought for others, win at all cost, divide and conquer

Gloating, he enjoys his prize,

You stand in pain, infirm, older than he by decades, unbelieving,

Looking into the darkness of his eyes,

You can't explain the hatred you just found, for this stranger,

A feeling so alien to your normal self,

Usually left untouched upon the shelf,

But now burning inside your whole body and soul,

That it takes a hold, your almost out of control,

Suddenly, the next stop approaches,

The exodus, mad, squirming mass broaches onto the platform,

More seats are empty, you clamber in,

Your mind is no longer transfixed on him,

And as you sit your body relaxes,

The carriage fills up , once more to the brim,

As you sit there, on your prize,

You feel the burn of staring eyes,

To hell with others who struggle silently around you in the throng,

Of people in the mass,

It's a prize you possess, have acquired, right or wrong,

And there you sit, the winner,

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