Man on the Train

I once saw a man on the train,

Who seemed he was in a lot of pain.

His eyes were gone,

His throat was slit,

And yet he still carried on.

I couldn’t help but stare

And at first he didn’t care.

But that’s when I saw the pair

Of large red eyes,

Hidden within his hair.

I tried my best not to look

I directed my gaze into a book.

But suddenly he was their

As if he were made of air

He said “it’s impolite to stare.”

My eyes began to bleed

Until I could no longer read.

The sound began to fill the air

Like venom in my veins,

“It’s impolite to stare”

And the pain was far from done

I tried so hard to run

I could feel the cold hard metal

Make my neck gush

The liquid as red as rose pedals

So now I get onto trains

And forever feel his pain

I can no longer breathe fresh air,

But I don’t care,

Because it was impolite to stare.