Stream of Humanity

The stream of humanity marches by averting their eyes from mine so not to see who I am. They glance just once to see if I block their path and again look forward when they see that I am not.

The endless stream of human bodies could care less if I collapsed onto the ground in a storm of tears and wails. They simply step over my broken soul or kick me so I would not impede their trek.

If anger was to overtake me and I let out a deafening scream they would cover their ears and move with haste lest their destination not be there when they arrive. They wouldn't dare ask or even wonder why, none would help me or try to make me feel better. They would continue as they always have and always will.

In their minds they are planning their day, making their excuses or deciding what they need. In their heads they have a million thoughts, but not a single one for me.

I must walk on but I'll choose the path less traveled. I'll choose the path where you stop and talk with the people you meet because they are so few. I'll take the path where broken bodies and souls are not an obstacle, but a challenge, a challenge to help and mend.

Where I stand now I mean nothing. Just the sight of a million eyes glaring milliseconds at a time, but when these paths cross again in times to come, the stream of humanity shall part for me and all of the eyes will see my face and dare not look away. For then, I will be too important to ignore, but then, they will mean nothing to me.

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