The stranger lurks about each day
And no one knows his name.
His clothes are dark; his hat down low
Each day he looks the same.
The people talk and gossip
Of the harm that he might do.
Perhaps he's only searching
For a friend to find anew.
We judge too quickly throughout life
Labelling people at a glance.
Maybe we would be happier
Giving a stranger a second chance.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
Phavi K.
Tavy M.
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