As I walk through these crowds day after day,
I see people’s silhouettes;
The stuff they’re made of deep inside,
The good or bad they try to hide,
And their joy or sorrow with every breath.

They drag around shadows that look light as a feather,
But that can contain the weight of the world.
I can see the silver hues of their souls,
So beautiful, but sometimes riddled with holes.
Their flags of sadness are quietly unfurled.

Everyone steps in rhythm with
The beating ballad of their life.
These songs can be heard on the wind;
They’re full of hope that comes from within,
And the will to save others from the scythe.

Sometimes they feel like marionettes;
Nothing more than wood and some string.
Getting tangled isn’t hard;
They always have to be on guard
From the storms and the hurts and the stings.

Each day that I navigate these crowded streets,
I take a quick look at silhouettes – and faces.
Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of who they are,
Or I’ll see a memory in a tattoo or scar;
Then we’ll continue on to our different places.