One day at a
crowded station
as I waited
for the local train,
through the
crowd came a shriek
that pierced
our busy brain.
“I hate you.
I love you.
I kill you.
I hate you.”
Every head
turned to check
the source
of the sharp noise.
The crowd
split apart to reveal
a torn
clothed man without poise.
We observed
and ignored him,
gave space
and let him be.
He blabbered
what came to him
without a
filter of propriety.
“Poor crazy
fellow,” chuckled
the dapper man
next to me.
We forgot him
as the train arrived
in our hurried
boarding spree.
Every
commuter was lost
in his phone
or her thought.
Every face,
though silent without,
in an inner
volcano, was caught.
There is a fine
filter that masks
our emotions
and projects peace.
It curbs our
real thoughts and
creates a
facade of pleasant face.
It’s the filter
that separates us
from the ‘mad’
in our society.
Else, we’d be
mouthing it all,
killing our purported
sobriety.
No comments:
Post a Comment