But you see me and judge.
We have not spoken
But you look at me
With hateful eyes.
What have I done
To make you look at me so?
No words or lies
Nor sticks or stones.
But with just a glance,
You judge.
And I am unwillingly placed
In a box. A category.
I am unable to halt this process.
For what am I to do
To curb the workings
Of another's mind?
The corrupted thoughts.
The twisted creepers
Ever pondering
Vagabonds of the mind.
So now I sit
With the others
You have judged so carelessly,
My first impression.
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