PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Every night on the bus 
I see the same vacant expressions 
on the same faces. 
Every night it is the 
same routine, the same game 
of pretending everyone 
else is somewhere else. 
Staring out the window 
in the same seat at the same 
buildings. Passing the same 
street signs I see 
every single night. 
I am as vacant as the 
slippery shadows that 
frolic just outside my line 
of vision. There are moments I 
am convinced I have lost 
my mind. There are seconds 
I am certain I have become 
a figure in somebody else's 
illusionary world. Every night 
I find myself thinking the same 
pathethic thoughts that I always 
extrapolate on this mundane bus ride. 
I am a book that has not allowed 
itself to be opened. Fresh ink on 
the pages that has not been read. 
Every tangled rope seems to bind 
me tighter and tighter, until I can 
sense the emotions leaving my soul. 
Why do we continue to follow 
the same patterns of disillusionment? 
Is it that we are afraid to let 
our hearts feel the emotions God 
gave us to treasure? I suspect that 
we have become so wrapped up 
in our various performances that we 
have forgotten that we are all of 
the same breed.