An abnormal cloud of silence hovers over the grimy bus

No one makes a fuss

Their eyes are that of a dead fish

When they smile

It is a grimace of pain that is hostile

They wear burdensome ashen chains on their limbs

They say it embodies them for they are quite dim

One stands for morals

Another stands for the expectations of society

As they become animated their chains whirl

Moving with their owners so that they are one

Indistinguishable from the other

They chatter with glee

For they do not see

Since they have shut their eyes

And stifled the indignant cries

For they believe they are not bound

By what cannot be found