The Crowd Poem by Terio Ruiz

Not willing to cry
Nor able to shout
Just sitting there
Looking into the golden horizon

While the crowd gathers not too far
Mistaking my muteness
As a teenage peculiarity
Drenched with a shower

Of fame and power
But not with an urge
To join the crowd and smile
Someone comes over

And interrogates me
In an amiable manner of course
Wondering why I pop a squat and wear
A face with a pattern of horizontal lines

Seeing me with no urge to answer
He walks away to be with the crowd again
But he looks back at me
To answer the why for himself

He concludes that he and the crowd
Have their other half, but stole mine.