Bus stop

I decided one day, not to go to my shop

And I sat on that bench, in front of my bus stop

Staring at these people, I never meet or smell

Missing work wasn’t bad, for what I had to tell

This neighbor I can’t bear, seems to be a good guy

I saw him help that man, crossing this nasty road

He is so old and blind, he shouldn’t even try

So my noisy alien, behaves much worse at home

This lady on my floor, doesn’t only buy bred

When she visits each day, in the dark of the shade

This baker she must love, from what I can observe

I could reveal all that, one would just lose his nerves

 I have also noticed, the expression kids had

On their novice faces, when entering the bus

A mix of pain and joy, between the good and bad

We create in others, the fears that define us

When I looked at myself, in the damn reflection

Of the stupid bus stop, the roads of perdition

Lead me to what I was, to the deep of my will

So when the next bus came, I jumped under its wheels