Bus Stop

September 28, 2010
The bus stopped at the red light, I look at the man sitting next to me, long black hair up to his sholders, and when he turns to look at me, he has eyeliner on, piercings on his lips, and his lips are red. Who is this man? I don't know him, when I quickly turn around, because of how shy I am, I look out the window, and see people huddled up, I see a man, polices around him, and this man looks sick, the ambulence is there, the man is shaking, shaking hard, he doesn't stop, polices try to pick him up from the ground, but he falls right back. He has a siezer, I feel something inside of me that tells me, "This is life" Why does life have to be so harsh, hard, and complicated? Why is life filled with so many events I can't handle? I feel bad for the man, so I blow him a kiss good-bye, as the bus starts to move because the light turns green, I feel bad for a man, that is no one to me, I feel bad for the man, who is much older than me, I feel bad for the man, who shakes so fast, I feel horrible for the man, at the bus stop. I feel bad for the man, who I know did not survived. How do I know? Theres a picture of him in my mind. I only see him one last time, and that is on the news, bye, man sorry I didn't catch your name, but I grew love for you. Good-bye...

R.I.P. Man at the bus stop





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