A Face Upon The Street

• Alyssa Hunt, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2010

As anonymous as a grain of sand on a long and endless beach
I resist against the rising sun; the lies and myths they teach.
I feel the stirrings of rebellion, a strong and burning heat
And this disconnects me from the other faces in the street.
Drifting forward, drifting backward,
To a controlled and senseless beat.
I am just one amongst many of the faces in the street.

Carried passively on the surface of the crimson human tide,
I wait in vain for change, but choice has long since died.
Nothing more than puppets, their obedience complete,
The blankness is frightening, on those faces of the street.
Flattened down, flattened down
Under authority’s crushing feet
I wonder for our future, us faces on the street.
My life is woven in straight threads of dull and dreary grey
I sense it begin to stretch, and the ends begin to fray.
But the simple patterns are webs of finely spun deceit
For much more is hidden beneath the faces of the street.
Weaving under, weaving over
With much contact with deceit
Such is the way of the monotonous tapestry of the street.

Everyone is suffering yet there is no question for the cause
Happiness is put on hold, pleasure put on pause.
My face holds traces of the hard lines of defeat
The mask is reflected on the other faces of the street.
Struggling on, struggling on
With nothing left to eat.
How I wish I was exempt from the horrors of the street.