The bus was rumbling down the road.
Amid busy blockades it slowly rowed.
The Straphanger was amid the crowd, yet stood out,
He hung to the strap and lips were in a frowny pout.
His eyes were fixed on the floor of the bus,
He was silent and lonely amid all petty fuss.
His was a solitude to the crowd around him,
Yet, like his gaze, he was attached to a whim.
All the natural noises around, greatly drowned,
But in the racket in his mind, didn't cease to pound.
The Straphanger still stood still,
He had no energy to move at will.
The strap was the last thing holding him up,
Else, he would just crumple down like a pup.
The juggle of the bus didn't stir this state,
The bus here, was travelling through fate.
The man holding on, could not think or hear,
Standing still, within, he was scampering with fear.
The bus kept going without stopping anywhere,
Just because the straphanger, had chose to dare.
The journey was tiring him up bit by bit,
Yet, there was no chance at all to simply sit.
There were a lot many turns and breaks to come,
The shakes and the aches, are inescapable, to this chum!