Metamorphosis of days

By Shertease Wheeler:

I surf on the crowded trains, steady, to keep from falling into the abyss of grime.

I weave, like a threaded needle, in and out of human traffic taking care of caution and aware of time.

I sit and stare into the blank souls of strangers, wondering of their most secretive thoughts

Then we clamor over one another like a sea of crabs in a tangled net, but this time we are not caught.

Struggling with the inadequacy of this city, I fly through the high towers only to once again smash into my daily captor.

Freedom lost for 8 hours. It’s all a blur, until the next day. But right now it’s too much to factor.

Thanks for reading!