Some holding steel handles.
Those seated, in various scandals.
Asleep, completing unfinished orgies of last night.
Awake, faking understanding of bought press.
In trance, listening to music, cumming to Nirvana.
Extinct relics, writing poems.
Shhh.... The Passengers are travelling.
Hardik Vaidya's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (The Passengers by Hardik Vaidya )
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