Alone in the carriage

Alone in the tube carriage, I look at my mirrored image in the window in front of me, clear against the night outside. Framed in the hood shading my features, I see a tired face. Tired of being alone, tired of seeing around me these residuals of humanity, forgotten wreckage of the crowd. Tired of false people, funambulists of sentiments, who first illude you then stab you, before passing over. To you who were friends, beloveds and lovers, you who slipped away leaving nothing but waste, you who fell back showing yourselves incapable to be true, I wish to be happy. Of a true and deep happiness, able to change you, for all you have done will not have been done just to show another mask fitting you so well.