Musings at the bus stop

Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, cold and alone, watching everyone in their cars racing, my hair whipping in their wind, reminds me of my life now. Everyone’s life keeps on moving and I’m stuck right there, waiting for that one to stop and lend a hand. I try to yell for help, but the windows are up, radios on, and they are focused on where they need to be. Someone stopped, but asked me to help them. I did. Then they took off leaving me even colder.

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