In A Crowd Poem by William W. Sloan

To laugh, to cry, mimics the
Mind, to an emotion,
And singular is the outline seen,
Collectively is its notion;
Behind each expression lies the
Hidden, buried clue,
But only a fraction from the surface
Awaits the answer, to so few;
The body grows close when its enemy is fear,
And within, the hero image is held,
Ever so dear;
But panic, and it fails, no
Longer is the mass proud,
So alone, surrounded by shadows, and
Still, in a crowd.