There is something that you can see
Even though you can never see his eyes
The man in the subway
Is blessed in this disguise.

How his hands are tight
Holding on to what’s his
As if,
Preparing for a future not so bright.

And yet,
He is tired, carefully exhausted,
Spent and blistered,
But never distracted.

All I did on my part
Was capture him in that moment he was vulnerable
And his tired eyes,
Became my art.


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