2The Angel
by artemisathene
So the sage was spilling wisdom on the floor.
The people came and went
So many faces I had never seen before.
Three walls of glass and one of concrete.
Two hundred pairs of eyes boring into me.
They say I am perfect, so rare
Nowhere to sit, nowhere to hide
From their awful stares.
Why am I so amusing to these eyes and smiles?
I wish that I could die for just a little while.