I look into their old and tired eyes,
they seem to be begging me for company.
They extend their arms toward me,
like my great-grandmother used to
I would love to go talk to them
They're probably a book of knowledge waiting to be read
But yet, I stand motionless
As if my feet were cemented into the ground
Fear takes over my formerly conscious mind
And I lose my chance to make a difference
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.