The Teacher

You are the blind beggar singing at the train station.
Faster lives walk past where you stood.
You hear the sorrows, the giggles and the shouting and swearing.
You smell the seconds, minutes of sweat and flowers
You are hit with muscles and bags,  and touch the hair, bones and skin.
You taste the rain drops, the dust and the smoke.
Your box was empty.
Now there are clanks of metals
With the faces you never saw,and the numbers and script you touched.
Then your day gets robbed
Your face kicked  by boots.

You keep singing, not by choice.
A childish voice then asked,
"Do you stand here everyday?"
" I don't know everyday.
Today is not over yet".