In a crowded room you are alone,
Surrounded by those you've never seen before,
You are judging them all,
And they are judging you.
You don't really mean to,
It's unconscious as you lean your head against the wall,
Nibbling your lip,
Wringing your hands as you wait.
The girl in the low cut top is obviously a slut,
The man with the mismatched socks is disorganized,
The boy in the baggy clothes has no sense,
The old woman knitting with a scowl is crotchety.
When you do this,
What do they think of you;
What do your attributes tell them?
Perhaps your glasses make you a 'nerd,'
Perhaps your all black clothing makes you 'goth,'
Perhaps the novel resting on your lap makes you 'pedantic,'
Perhaps your high collar makes you a 'prude.'
You know the reasons you are as you are;
You dress in black because it makes you look 'skinny,'
You dressed in a turtleneck to hide the pimple on your collarbone,
You have glasses to read the book that is your English homework.
So give the others the benefit of the doubt,
Mayhap they have reasons just like yours,
They don't deserve your judging gaze,
Just as you don't deserve theirs.