watching nameless streets and faces pass by
much like death

no one looks in a bus
to see whats inside
just whats offered on the glass

much like death
more like hell

visits dont come to the woman
she only sits and waits
for her turn to come out

her veritable hell
her death
her ride

will anyone notice her
will anyone notice her death
will anyone notice her ride

she steps off just like everyone else.
walks to the places she was destined to
no radicality in her footsteps

pacing her steps in even motion
not to be noticed
she ventures to places known only to her.

where sweeping dreams are all but reality
and everyone is her friend.
everyone notices what goes on.

she wakes to do the same routine
one woman sitting on a bus
much like death

always in different clothes
never quite the same

she goes to unremarkable places
and visits indeterminate faces
no one recognizes her.

much like death
much like a bus ride

she stands and exits the bus
so many times before
the air is different this day

the one woman walks just like everyone else
to the place she was destined to
with the same lackluster steps

only to be stopped by something remarkable
something utterly eye opening
it glitters in the night sky

she looks at her bland clothes
and notes the crimson spilling out
spattering her nondescript shoes

much like death
much like a bus ride
she fades away