Infinite lives, Infinite stories

Behind the face of the man on the train,

Is a story of a passing wife, a dying cat and a bad day.

A multitude of color hidden behind the cover known as stranger.

Oh, I don’t know him, her, it.

It’s not your fault says the man, he smiles, you are simply blind.

He removes his face;

a dead wife gives her greetings,

a cat purrs with the warmth of summer

and the pain of a bad day is spared half a life.

Suddenly Mr stranger become known

But I am still blind.

Blind to the infinite lives that surround me.