Sitting on the subway train, Backpack on my right. Music blasting through my vein, I don’t care if I’m polite. A man comes on the train and sighs, His feet hurt from standing. And I’ve run out of alibies, I move my bag; I’m understanding. His palms are soaked in sweat, His nails have turned black. Letting him sit was my regret, There’s no way of turning back. He asks me for the time, I tell him half past ten. His hair is streaked with grime, He pauses then talks again. He asks me if I go to school, I nod then turn the volume up. He gapes at me like a fool, “Are you all right?” “Yup.” He glares at my reflection, I plug my nose to drown his smell. I have shown too much affection, So I crawl back into my shell. How I hate mornings like these, Where I must frown and strain. Dear God, I beg you please, Stop spending me creepers on the train.