Like the ugly graffiti on the walls of a subway
you are secondary to the traffic above.
No one can lift you out of this wretchedness.
Sometimes, you hear of accidents and feel lucky
Other than that, your life is pedestrian.
Time is a one way traffic and you are always
on the wrong side and are gripped by fear.
You don't die at one go, instead you hope.
And circumstances feed on you like maggots.
Delusions that escape your mind form a reality
A construct of your whims and fancies.
With its different norms and charms.