Man on the Train



I once saw a man on the train, Who seemed he was in a lot of pain. His eyes were gone, His throat was slit, And yet he still carried on.

I couldn’t help but stare And at first he didn’t care. But that’s when I saw the pair Of large red eyes, Hidden within his hair.

I tried my best not to look I directed my gaze into a book. But suddenly he was there As if he were made of air He said “it’s impolite to stare.”

My eyes began to bleed Until I could no longer read. The sound began to fill the air Like venom in my veins, “It’s impolite to stare”

And the pain was far from done I tried so hard to run I could feel the cold hard metal Make my neck leak The liquid as red as rose pedals

So now I get onto trains And forever feel his pain I can no longer breathe fresh air, But I don’t care, Because it was impolite to stare.