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Izzy Apr 2013
I love the anonymity
of trains.
Hudreds of people travelling
in the same metal tube.
All trying to reach their destination
Going about their lives
In the busy hustle of the 9-5.
No one caring who is around them
Some dreaming away the journey
Others meeting deadlines,
Or lost in a world of music.
I just like to sit and oserve the herd.
I spot the broken people,
The happy couples,
The business types,
The nuclear families.
I wonder do I register on any radar.
I love the opportunity
That comes with
Anonymity.
Kelsey Dec 2012
Beaten and broken
She whispers,
"Save me"
She's drowning in blood.
"Help me, help me"
She doesn't deserve to die.
One cut leads to hudreds.
Scratches become stitches.
Love becomes brutal hate.
The agony puts her in an insane state.
Pushed around, she's down on the ground.
Save her before she's dead.
But it's too late.
Her funeral is cold and black.
If only someone heard her scream.

— The End —