Hushed: The Words of an Introvert [LiteratureCollection]

Actuelle de No Compassion

Feeling condensed in an elephantine box

made small, yearning for a moment’s berth.

Foreign skins mesh against mine and I am

hauled in a current of limbs, stripped of worth.

Tucked in shoulders, avert my nose from the crowd.

It’s peculiar how contagious behavior can be.

I ask, has hospitality become an old wives’ tale?

Bump, shove, push, elbow, ram – Pardon me!

Amid the bustle is the ruckus.

Blaring commands followed by compressed, trollish paces.

Never to be my own person again; the freedom jets

grumble outside, mocking dreamers who seek ample places.

Weep for the world that’s forgotten compassion.

Long gone careful and respectful physical contact.

Sweet manner lacerated, ceased by the devil’s blade.

I shall rejoice when tea time returns and past is not abstract.