The Grey Army

Faceless, nameless people marching on the daily commute.

Train delays, mumbling mouths muttering complaints, no one listens.

Double shot Americanos in colourful cups, the only sign of festive cheer.

Crammed into carriages like sardines, connected to a virtual world. Trapped in body and mind.

Open the floodgates, march up endless flights of stairs, onwards to a never ending battle. The constant war of commuter life.

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