silent-trance bus riders
in blank, unblinking stare
look ahead, deep, slow eyed and unseeing
haunting with their faces
seated facing me was one of those
of the impermeable, inpenetrable void
not knowing
just there
set in icy stone
an uncaring, unforgiving dead grim gaze
born of fear and oppression
passed by generations
that witnessed gladiators fight to the death
sons turn cold
and heretics burn at the stake
a locked down scowl that will out wait hell
refuses happiness exists, or hope a possibility
moments before her stop
she mysteriously transported herself
from the dark ages to the modern era
having readjusted her face, she left the bus
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