We're all going somewhere

Glum faces,
Going places,
Bags on laps and litter traces.

Sitting down and standing up,
Sandwiches and a coffee cup.

We're all going somewhere,
Trying to move on,
On the coach and onward,
Why must it take so long?

Sitting awkwardly on suitcases,
Leaning against a wall,
Searching for your coach number,
but the writing is so small.

Ticking names off paper,
Counting by the head,
Packets of crisps won't fill your stomach,
Wish you stayed home instead.

We're all going somewhere,
Trying to move on,
On the coach and onward,
Why must it take so long?

Boredom starts to take over,
And your phone is nearly dead,
The newspapers a metro,
So you'll stare into space instead.

Bladders nearly bursting,
Where did you put the change?
Thirty pence to urinate,
Are the coach station deranged?





They're calling for your coach now,
You'd better get your stuff,
Onwards to your destination,
By now you've had enough.

On the coach you go now,
Juggling your bags,
Your suitcase has a dodgy wheel,
So you pull and heave and drag.

The driver is a jobsworth,
Checking every X,
You forgot to print your ticket
but they did send you a text.

Up the stairs you climb now,
Searching to find a chair,
Praying that someone doesn't sit next to you,
The journey would be a nightmare.

The coach is on its way now,
This is where it starts,
You said you wanted to leave this town,
But really its close to your heart.


We're all going somewhere,
Trying to move on,
On the coach and onward,
To find somewhere where you belong.

Scared Street

I am absolutely infuriated by a man who has just followed me to my house in his car. I was walking down a busy main road after a really great day, when a car beeped me. I looked behind me and saw a man waving me down, which was curious to me as I don't know anyone who drives a burgundy seven seater. The car drove on and turned down my road and I thought it would just carry on going. When I got to the top of my road, the car was waiting for me with a forty-something man inside, looking grotesque and sweaty. I walked on and the man focused on my every move. He drove off and then a minute later came driving up the road again. He pulled over and asked me to get in his car. I said no and carried on walking. He backed up and asked me again. I told him no and questioned his actions, calling him a, "Freak." He told me I was gorgeous and asked me if I needed a lift and by this point I was wound up, scared and a bit anxious. I told him he was scaring me and that it wasn't right for a man to be flagging down young girls and asking them to get in his car which seemed like it offended him. I walked toward my door and told him to go away, locking myself in. I looked through the key hole and the man drove around for a third time.

Men like this shouldn't be allowed to scare girls on their own street. I have been in London all day and was on my guard constantly. I thought I was safe in my own street but no. The area I live in isn't known for being pleasant and the street at the end of mine is infamous for prostitution. I'm just thankful it was daytime.