He views the world as this,

A load of pain, hurt, and bliss..

It's like a walk through a runway that shouldn't even exist.

Feeling stares galore and comments,
That's feeding into the nonsense,
In raggedy attire because he was never rich...

Feeling heat lag,
And deep sweats,
Spending even more energy on preparing for what is coming next.

Every stare are judgments,
He's receiving none as far as helping hands,

Because they are so interested in gossip that they don't help him to advance.

His heart feels as really though it's quickly about to break.

But he keeps marching on...