ANGEL

An unusual cold, cloudy morning
Walking with my backpack
Various thoughts about school and assignments surround me
As I walk past the white-washed houses.

In the distance, I see you
Walking towards me, with your head bent low
You seemed lost in thoughts and gloomy
While avoiding people’s gazes
And walking in quick, long strides.

Not many would describe you as pretty
In the fishnets and boots and chokers and linkers
But you looked nothing less than an Angel to me
Blending in perfectly in the weather,
I watch you as you push away
The loose strand of your black hair
People scowl at your black make-up
And your all black outfit
I don’t understand why they just have to judge you
Based completely on how you chose to look.

People are the same inside, no matter what
Even if they change their looks everyday.
Why do they find it so hard to understand this?
Or why can’t they just mind their own business?

As you walked closer, I noticed your many piercing
Even though you are Goth, it doesn’t make you a bad person
It depresses me to see how easily people are stereotyped
They don’t even try to talk to you and get to know you
Before they pass their judgments.

You aren’t afraid to be what you are,
You don’t care about what random people think of you
You chose to be this, because this is what you wanted
And dress exactly the way you want to
For which I highly admire and respect you.

Sure, you might have been a part of the night rituals,
Sitting in a circle with your friends, in the middle of the jungle
Chanting stuff, with a fire burning in the centre.
But how can people condemn you for worshiping the Evil?
Good or bad or Satan or God,
You have your freedom to follow whatever you choose.


I watch you walk closer,
You lift your gaze to mine
And you look at me straight in the eye.
As you pass me, I could have bet my life,
That it was a smile...