Zombie Platform Tide Drawn Faces

The semantics always seem the same
While waiting for the morning train
Sat on the platform draped in rain

Just another statistic numbers
Emotionless state of zombie slumber

Wrapped up heads in over-sized earphones
And sun designer indoor glasses
Bough on a phone bought into by the masses 
Only to be tracked and profiled into classes

Surf through a tide of drawn empty faces
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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March 4, 2012 at 9:02 AM
Christopher, life... how can we ever change the expression in our faces... this is a nice poem.... enjoyed..pd
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