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| I keep passing to the next subway car, Eyes hidden behind dark mirrors for shade. My footing unsure, I cling to the bar. I constantly move, yet never go far, My endurance spent and my last nerve frayed I keep passing to the next subway car. Ignoring the stops, unsure where we are, My flesh is writhing as though I’d been flayed. My footing unsure, I cling to the bar. The dirty floor sticks to my boots like tar And though my feet feel impossibly weighed I keep passing to the next subway car. I feel as if I’m sealed tight in a jar, A prison from which all exit’s forbade. My footing unsure, I cling to the bar. The tunnel is black, without sun or star, The air is stale and my lungs feel betrayed. I keep passing to the next subway car, My footing unsure, I cling to the bar. |