A noticed man on a long rusty cold bench
Hidden behind a mask as me
He on the right, I sit down on the farest left
Its late morning in the fall
Catched the same train
Walked the same paths
As I saw his face, his eyes when he felt his hackles raising
I looked directly into a grown man's unrest
A bold 18 year old behind him
- He was off-color
Suddenly he found himself climbing the stairs apace
My step continued to follow his
How could he have known that I had a bus to catch
Right behind his
Strange, isn't it?
You may not wonder about it, but if you do
You might think about him as someone afraid
As someone being overdramatic
Or even as weak
But would you think the same if by pure chance his steps followed mine?
If the bloodless face from a young girl looked into a grown man's scarred eyes?
But how do you know whats in the others' mind?
Especially when only half the face has to be enough to judge
A bold 18 year old like I described myself could be as sick as a grown man
My mind could even be sicker
No female is weak
No male is weak
No person is weak
For fearing an unknown soul
When such appalling news always toll
There is never a guarantee
Neither one five-star strategy