In my backyard

When I think of hatred and violence, I tend to think of something far away... you know, it's in that country or in that part of the city... The people near me are good people, right? On Friday morning, I was witness to a very confronting incident on the bus really challenge my underlying attitude of "not in my backyard". I was catching the bus on the way to uni, when a youngish man boarded with a radio blaring from his backpack [This is actually illegal on public transport here; music is supposed to audible only to the person listening to it - i.e. used with headphones]. One of the other passengers requested that he turn it down, and was met with a barrage of insults, swearing and threats of violence, even after the bus driver's warning, that I was scared for the safety of the man who complained and for the other passengers around. It was such a small thing, and it unleashed such a lot of hate. Being me, I wrote a poem about it...

Bus is quiet
People silent
New passenger disturbs our rest
Loud music blares
Everyone stares
Til someone decides to protest
He swears and shouts
About to strike out
Bus driver issues a warning
Hearing death threats
What will come next?
Will there be blood spilt this morning?
I want to hide
Crying inside
Wishing it were all just a jest
There's so much hate
Love seems too late
For this morning bus ride in the West.