I walk alone,
Wanting to turn my head,
Afraid of judgement.

I feel as if every house I pass,
The owner is inside watching,
Pointing a finger and laughing
At my every move.

I want to run home,
But I know that in all reality,
Running draws more attention.

I only know a select few people
From the houses I pass.
The ignorant,
The smokers,
The people who don't think
I know who they are,
They could care less
If you walk past or not.

But then the people I know
The strange elders,
The sweet old ladies,
The people who take time
Out of their day to say hello to you.

The people who smile and wave
Mean the most,
Because they don't care
How you walk,
They don't care
How your arms swing.
They just care
That they have someone to
Say hello to.

These are the people who care.
And if you feel like they do it
Because they're obligated to,
Think about the people in their houses,
Point and laughing
At your every move.