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He sat there in the crowded hallway -- of which you took no notice
Slowly taking his crayon, pens, lined paper -- you looked at your watch

He, all of 10, disappears writing his work -- too busy as you wander
Laying on the floor he writes it slowly -- not paying attention

He sits there in the hallway holding the sign -- the train is late
"It's Sometimes Pointless" it says, coffee stains -- you stop and stare

There is a crowd forming slowly, he looks straight ahead -- what is he doing?
He holds it with two small fingers, blank look cast -- you squint

It was then they started, carrying on about the sign -- they got angry
How it was not this nor that, prettily done, message wrong -- letters of protest

The security guards asked him to move on, after complaints -- noisy they were
Where was his parents, what was he doing there - looks of disgust

He just disappeared off, leaving his sign
Tossing in the streets blowing loudly

And the commuters returned to their trains
Smiling at a job well done.
This describes futility.

People often ask survivors of abuse - "why did you not tell anyone". There is so many reasons why - but now even as an adult, when I say something, I am often met with stares and actions so beyond my comprehension, that it makes me sad for all those young children out there, trying to be heard.
EclipsedEden Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2013  Student General Artist
Incredible point and emotion
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February 17, 2013
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