squeezed up, squeezed down
side to side and all around
no one cares where you go
because you are too small
to protest the cruel flesh upon your weak bones
never waning never gaining
never a single moment to yourself
pushes to the side pulled to the back
you can't fight that
your weak frame can only handle so much pressure
fighting back is not one of them
nails bared eyes flared
that makes no difference
a boot to the butt and you're out of there
squashed down flattened up
frail arms can't push back
flesh nothing but flab can't withhold the pressure
support your own and your stuff is enough
hold tight struggle through
you'll get off at your stop no matter what they do
1 comment:
i feel this way every morning on BART. the difference is though, I don't need a pole to hang on to.
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