A million tiny pinpricks
the brightness of the sun
they would blind you
if you looked right at them.

A thousand earsplitting whispers
wishing you well,
pushing you on
they would deafen you
if you hadn't already stopped hearing them.

A sea of faces
fades into black before the horizon
if you didn't know not to
acknowledge them,
you might.

Someday,
years from now I can guarantee
those million spotlights
will blind you

those thousand voices
will drown out your own

that sea of faces will look back
Confused(?)
Disgusted(?)
or worse

disinterested

Fifteen minutes is up.