Going Home...

Alighting a train,
When passengers are boarding,
Is as easy as driving against traffic,
On a busy evening.
It just takes a while,
And a bit of skill,
To avoid the elbows,
Of those aggressive few.
Once you are out,
And gasping for air,
You meet another crowd,
Assembling at the stairs.
The lift is also not spared,
From the chaotic mob;
The overload buzzer explodes,
While the handicapped sob.
The escalator seems fast,
To a turtle or a snail,
For everyone thinks they’ll be killed,
If they don’t stand very still.
Those who are slaughtered,
Are those who try,
To do long jumps,
Without using their minds.
They try to jump to the concourse,
But landed on the tracks.
Obviously the train will come,
And they’ll be gone in a smack.
Anyway if you get downstairs,
Don’t be too happy,
For there is still the gantry,
That closes on you if unlucky.
Even if you got through,
Without getting bitten,
Make sure you check your fare;
Your money could be eaten.
Finally you exit the station,
And rewarded with some space,
Which will soon be invaded,
By insurance agents who give chase.
You can raise your palm and look away,
But nevertheless they stick all ways.
Sooner or later they’ll walk away,
With them cursed to be set ablaze.
We are all tired people,
Just eager to get home.
Why can’t everyone enforce courtesy,
And the agents leave us alone?