Crowded Hawker Stall

The smell of oil and noisy chatters
spells lunch time for city dwellers

Nonchalantly, she arrives
looking for something that would last her till five.

With nothing in mind, she lets out a sigh
lunch seems heavier with an impending stormy sky.

One stall particularly caught her eye
everyone was queuing and she wonders why

Part of her wanted to join the waiting list
Part of her wants to give it a miss

Adjacent to the stall, at an empty corner.
The crowd seems smaller, close to none.

Something tells her to keep out of the queue
Just a face in the crowd; she wouldn't want to feel.

With her back turned, she left for the quieter side
Her vision never left but she's trying to hide.

Then again, if given any chance.
She would put up a honorable fight
for her right kind of wrong, she would describe in a song.