I love to commute by bus
Sitting by the window
And seeing the scenes change
Everything just passing us by
As we keep on moving

But I don't always get to sit by the window
Sometimes it's so packed
And crowded that there's no place to stand
I have to go home though, so I choose to stand

I stand with no space to stand
But I can feel a hand
A hand slithering down my back
My butt, my thigh
Feeling me slowly

It feels uncomfortable
I freeze up
I can't scream or just do something
The feeling I get is to just run and hide

But I find myself thinking
"Does this mean I am not ugly?"
I always shrug that thought off
Even at times like this my self esteem wants reassurance

I still don't like getting touched
And they do it
They feel me up
It's always too much for me

And it passes
That moment in time always passes
And I am relieved when I step off the bus
I feel happy and hurry to my home

But it happens again
All over again
The same thing happens
Even if I am sitting they find a way

It feels horrible
And I am just still
Like a picture during that
And it always passes.