I stumble down into the crowd
They Stare. They watch me.
They await to see how quickly I should trip
Their deep eyeless eyes search. They want mine.
Yet, they do not make a move.
The ground is so smooth, So soft.
I should pet my hands onto the dirt and be lost.
Surely, it would be easier with their eyes behind me.
Should I just give them what they expect? What they feen to see?
No more pressure once I shall press upon the ground.
However, it is not something I often apply-- to please others eye.
I close my heart, I repel their lies.
I loose touch, I push back, I cut ties.
But what shall be my prize? For standing alone amongst such flies.
Always waiting, always watching for me to bend my knee.