“The rest of us are compressed
Chest to chest, with whoever stands next.
Dislocating themselves from the mass, others
Take tricky routes,
With the idea that by veering off a little,
Round the swarming
Pack of people, that their own ‘terrible suffering’ would be
Put at bay.
“Why go through the mess and waste all that time,
when I can go around?”
They don’t wait for a minute, they push.
Push and push and
push.
They look full of silence and innocence as they slide aside,
But have the mind of a cheat who lives to attack the honest.

The crammed lot are still ‘suffering’.
We “fools” will soon form a mould for others to
Slot into place.
Though squeezed, we’ll remain fair.

Yet, there will be those
Who always go around,
As the deceptive route
Is the one encouraged now.”