Screaming to be heard

On the underground District line.

People brush against me

And I hear their cry in kind.

It all seems understated

It all seems quite perverse.

Standing, crushed and shouting

But it all comes out reversed.

I’m the only one who’s speaking

Saying what needs to be said.

Struggling with my conscious

While everyone else had left theirs at home in bed.

Nobody’s saying nothing

Except the talks inside their heads.

But the questions go unanswered

Too scared to solve the puzzle of the interaction that they dread.