Concrete Poem- Non Revised

Stares

Don’t look up they will see you,

Look down. Only down.

The floor becomes your only comfort.

The cold, brown tiles, that reflect no warmth.

Much like their stares.

They don’t know.

You don’t know.

You feel like that tiny speck of dust on the floor.

You wish.

No one even notices the speck.

So inconsequential.

It gets swept away by a broom, quickly out of sight.

But not you.

You are in the moment.

You and them,

And their stares.

One day, they will forget.

But you will not.

Not the feeling.

Not the cold, brown floor.

And not the stares.