moving on.

A step up, followed by another.
The sudden blast of icy cold wind greets you,
sending a chill down your spine in a second, no wait, a nanosecond.
As you stretch out your hand towards the awaiting "money-eater",
the indifferent look on the bus captain's face causes you to stare
at your feet, whether nonchalantly or shyly.
However, your confidence dips to the lowest as you stride along the aisle,
eyes scanning from front to back, back to front, left to right
right to left but not one eye meets your glance.
You know you are not welcomed.
Meekly, now, you totter towards the back,
passing by the hateful passengers who sit on the outer seat
in order to decrease the chances of inconvenience others might bring.
You realise that you end up standing,
knuckles white from gripping the handle or pole,
yet too afraid to put your butt on a seat.

Soon, the bus slowly begins to fill up,
throng after throng and the bold take up most of the seats.
Halt.
An old lady shuffles up the bus with difficulty.
Her innocence shines through her wrinkled smile
as she looks for a seat but to no avail.
The atmosphere turns tense,
so silent that you could hear a pin drop.
Headphones begin blaring music, volumes are cranked up,
whispers and the flipping, crinkling of paper.
Only after a few stops,
does a student quietly give up his seat for the old lady,
but you could tell he was embarrassed from his reddened cheeks.

How pathetic.

"Move to the back please," the bus captain hoarsely shouts,
having done so nineteen to a dozen times already
yet the reaction is slow as feet shuffle, heels click, flip flops, flop.
Turning your head, you see the repeated pattern which you witness
everyday without change; passengers clumped at the front
while the rest are spaced out perfectly a few inches apart.
But don't we advocate change? For the better of the world?

Michael Jackson was right,
we need to heal the world.