Passersby

A sea of dead faces passing on a train,
Familiar faces passing by,
How the times have changed.
Once greeted with hellos and goodbyes,
Now we stare hoping no one speaks,
We are now walking lies. 

We all know one another,
But we keep it from each other,
In hope the memories will erase,
And the crowd will pass by without a bother.
But it can take one to break this phase. 

What has happened?
Where has the boundless energy and friendliness of our youth gone?
It was only just yesterday when we were told to grow up.  

The times we once shared,
Feel far and distant to where we are now.
The shades closing out the world are now up,
And the authority figures have disappeared from the playground,
Leaving us on a whole new platform to seek our own sense of power. 

But then, why do we follow the silent herd?
We are beaten down for our quiet manner,
And blamed when we step out beyond the norm.
Unconsciously we create the rules and guidelines,
Creating awkward potholes and traps,
Taking the place of where we once had our mates’ backs,
And cheered and supported one another on the sidelines. 

Life in the silent herd is here for now,
Where all old familiars are blank looks and acts of ignorance.
Crowding the train platforms and carriages,
Conjuring up old memories that give us a plethora of emotion,
Everything from happiness to horror as we travel the tracks,
And stalk the stations that give us momentum for our journeys ahead.